The Hangman
by Myurra-K
Summary: Using an old type of magic to create an inner circle of protection, Draco is noticing something in the spell went wrong. With Draco hiding a forbidden lover among other things, he doesn't realize that all the bad things happening at Hogwarts are his doing
1. The Circle

**=The Hangman=  
Myurra-K**

* * *

In the highest, darkest room of the old weather-worn creaking house, a blonde young man sat atop the single bed. Beneath him, an earth coloured moth-eaten quilt was stretched as far as it could manage. The only light in this dark room was from the moon, a beam of silvery light illuminating the youth's pale alabastor face and causing the trails of salty tears to shine the same murcury colour as the boy's eyes.

The room stank of blood and musty melted snow. But still, the once pristine boy continued to sit and pick at the tattered quilt beneath him with one hand, the other enclosed around a precious object. He was growing wilder and wilder by the day, his eyes flickering on the border of feral and his hair unkempt and brushing his shoulders, sticking up at odd angles from not being brushed. Several times, the sensation of something crawling on his skin came and went unacknowledged.

He was waiting for the_** call **_to hunt, but so far none of his family had called for him for a few days. He didn't really mind; he liked the solitude from the world. There was more to fear when others were near, after all. He was never truly alone though; his second aura hissed and thrashed angrily at the prospect of him being left alone without his mate and his family.

Oh how he could hear his mate's desperate cry for him, but not the _**call**._

Holding up the miniature seeing stone, the blonde continued to weld the broken chips together with the press of his second aura. Directing the arm of the fragmented projective of his soul, he used an upsurge of magic from his core and forced it inside the crystal. His seeing stone was rare - it beared the properties of a regular imperfect quartz seeing stone, or an onxy one even, only it was an imperfect diamond. It's power was so imense that he'd had to compress it's size, make it safe to carry with him.

The room crackled, zipping lights created by magic struck metal objects around the room, as electricity is conducted by wire. Had someone been hit by one of the shocks of magic, unexplainable things could happen, and he wasn't ready to try co-existing with people again. Not willingly at least.

Glancing at his window, the young man smiled at the beautiful white owl that sat perched half in the light and half shadowed. Her big golden eyes watched him knowingly and disapprovingly.

"I know, girl. But if I want to be strong for him again, I have to fix the stone." he told the bird. The creature cocked it's head to the side, and the blonde shook his head solemnly as though the bird had spoken to him. "Dont say that he wouldn't think it's the right thing to do."

This time, the bird squawked. Draco chuckled.

"I guess you're right, girl. I promise, as soon as I fix the stone I'll do it, I'll go to him." The bird flapped it's wings, cocking one foot in the air and closing one of it's large eyes. "I'm not waiting for the call this time, though. But I wont leave unless I'm fixed. You seen what I did to the others."

She huffed, flying over to him and carefully avoiding the sparks of firework magic. Pecking at his arm and nibbling his shirt sleeve, Draco looked down at her still smiling.

"I know my mate better than you, girl." he said, watching her butt her head against his arm in frustration. "I don't care what you think, my family cant be endangered." The owl ignored him, turning her large predatory eyes to the snake that was slithering up the blonde teenager's arm slowly. The creature was slick and shiny, scales a deep blue and green with black 'v' marks over it's body. Large golden eyes, identical in colour to the owl's, stared back at the bird.

"It's decided. I fix the stone, and I do what I came here to do."

Beneath the floor, between the space, a muffled feminine shriek followed the scraping of nails on wood.

* * *

**The Hangman**

**-Chapter I-**

_**The Circle**_

**1**_**  
**_

"It is better that you should rush upon this blade, then enter this haven with darkness in your eyes and light in your heart." A blade, cold and smooth, pressed hard against the young blonde man's neck. He narrowed his eyes. "How do you enter, Draco?" the woman asked, her dark eyes glittering with insanity and her fingers wrapped around the handle of the blade crackling with immense power.

"With neither light nor dark, but the willingness to serve." the silver-eyed blonde replied, his aunt smiling warmly at him. Lowering the blade, she leant foreword to kiss his cheek. He stepped back to evade her, further out of the circle of Death Eaters.

"Draco?" the woman asked, her eyes flickering in examination of his face. The teen flinched at the low growl emitted from the Dark Lord standing behind her, but he stood still and stony-faced. "What are you doing, stop this." Bellatrix hissed, eyes swimming with fear.

"Boy, what is it you desire? Do you desire death, or is it life?"

"Life, milord." Draco said quietly, averting his eyes to the rune circle formed around the Death Eaters, who were all focussed on him now.

"Ah, honesty. Usually one would not answer me, boy. I admire your courage. But it seems you have no wish to join us tonight." Draco shuddered, the water from the nearby river was rising steadily and was spilling over the bank and weaving through the grass. He didn't reply until the water was at his ankles.

"I do not, sir." he whispered, Tom's main concern was the lack of fear in the boy's voice.

"You desire life, but you do not fear death?" he asked. "Is that true?"

"Not at all, sir. I fear death just as much as any other man. But I cannot help but feel that this ritual is more dangerous to continue proceeding with rather than to not." Tom cocked his head to the side, unfolding his arms and allowing his robe sleeves to billow down to his sides.

"You fear the water, don't you Draco."

"Yes." the blonde whispered, finally the pained tremor returning to his voice. "I have feared drowning since a very young age, though I suspect my father never told you so." Draco hissed. Tom's attention then turned to Lucius, who was trying his best to watch the rising water rather than his son.

"Such a pity, Draco. For I told your father that unless he found a use for you then I would have to kill you." Draco flinched as the water started rising faster and faster. "I really was fond of you, Draco. But the ritual cannot be completed with an unwilling participant. I will just have to be rid of you then."

The water was at Draco's waist before it stopped rising. Bellatrix stepped to the side, Tom leaving the circle and snatching the blade from her. She moved to grab his arm, but thought better of it and merely watched as he dragged her nephew inside the circle. Lucius went to take a step foreword, but Tom extended an arm and whispered a binding charm.

Draco didn't fight to start with. The Dark Lord removed his Death Eater robes, raising his arm with the Dark Mark and pressing a thumb almost violently hard to the skull. Draco bit his lip hard to keep from screaming; the tattoo set alight, and by the time the mark had left a permanent unhealable scar the teen had bitten through his lip. A thick trail of blood ran down his chin, pain pulsating in his lip as he unlatched his teeth and released his own flesh.

"Oh Draco, does it hurt?" Tom asked, genuinely concerned. "Don't you worry, it will be over soon enough, my boy." the blonde nodded mutely, though he didn't know which sentence he was nodding to. Either one would have been appropriate.

"Milord…" Bellatrix started. Tom cut her off with a loud 'hush', before slicing off the dark shirt of the young man before him. At first, the woman thought Tom was going to do the unthinkable to the younger man, but she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more frightened when Tom merely raised the blade to the teen's pale chest.

"On your knees, Draco." Tom whispered, his molten eyes flashing fiercely with pain. The blonde's eyes bugged momentarily but did as he was commanded. Tom rubbed his free hand over his own hairless head, before using it to tilt Draco's chin, forcing the boy to look at him. Bellatrix made a small murmuring under her breath, whispering a spell that was vaguely familiar to Tom but not entirely. "I really do wish I didn't have to do this." he said quietly.

"I have only the willingness to serve." the blonde replied, and at first Tom didn't understand. And then he realised - Draco was doing someone else's bidding. Looking into the boy's eyes, they harboured no dark nor light, but the sincere smile that crossed his lips left only one name in Voldemort's mind.

"Albus, that daft fool. Mind games don't work in my realm." his hand slid from Draco's chin to his throat, clenching hard enough to let the boy know he wasn't going to let go but not hard enough to stop him from breathing.

"With this circle I enter, I die for my family and I take into myself the power to destroy my enemies." pale lids flicked closed over ice-cold eyes, mulberry lips parted soundlessly, words repeated as a mantra. "With this circle I enter, I die for my family and I take into myself the power to destroy my enemies."

Tom's eyes caught sight of the item in his hand - a miniature seeing stone - and knew then that Draco knew what he was doing. The boy had already foreseen his own death and yet he came anyway. He listened to the mantra Draco continued to draw into himself, the power already starting to swell.

Draco was born in an Autumn month, therefore west was his polar and fire was his strength. However, he was facing east and water surrounded him. It only made sense that he was chanting a protective incantation, though Tom had never heard of the one the youth was naming before. The seeing stone was still held firmly between both of the boy's strong hands, and his eyes were still closed, his lips moving almost wordlessly now as though he were lulling himself into a deep sleep.

"I'm not sorry, Draco." without the boy willing, their ritual could not be completed. Therefore, he was now unable to summon the eternal power with soulless sacrifice. Therefore, Draco was now useless to him. Hence, he had no choice but to take the boy's life, despite not truly wanting to. He wasn't sorry though; it was the boy's own fault.

Mustering all the strength into his arms, he pushed Draco under with the hand around his throat, the other with the blade taking place over the teen's chest. For a moment, Draco's lips only continued to move, until his eyes shot open in terror and he realised where he was. Tom watched as the struggling shape under the water continued to speak the incantation despite the threat of losing air quicker, and was almost disappointed when his movements started to weaken all too quickly.

By now, the circle of Death Eaters were unsure as to whether they should be trying to save the boy or keeping the circle in form. Lucius had forgotten his place and rushed to hold back his sister in law, stroking her dark hair as she cried out in anguish for her nephew. She stopped struggling against him, spitting out an incantation of her own, her words angry and harsh. Her smouldering eyes stayed on Tom, never blinking.

With the blade, Tom carved an 'X' on the young boy's chest, each line moving from just above the nipple to the opposite shoulder, meeting and crossing over the bottom of his breastbone. Draco didn't scream and swallow water, he just continued to struggle and chant underwater. His hands were flailing above the surface, attempting to grasp handfuls of air and beat away the restraint around his neck. With all efforts failing, however, he started go limp

The water was rushing away, and before Tom could recall what was happening red and blue lights were being thrown across the river at one another. Tom never looked up, just continued to hold the barely struggling Draco under water. Unfortunately, the water was moving out too fast, and their attackers were too close. Tom was almost stunned by a stray curse, instead he released Draco, threw the blade and pulled out his wand. Apparating away rather than face confrontation with the Order, he barely paid any attention to the Death Eaters who followed and those who didn't.

Lucius had continued to hold onto Bellatrix during the Order attack, until the Dark Lord disappeared and left Draco below the water. Curses flew past his ear, and one struck him in the chest, knocking him over. Bellatrix screeched, abandoning him and running for her nephew. Several times she had to drop to the ground or deflect a curse, the sensation leaving tempting prickles and slithers of magic and power crawling up her arm. She was so tempted to join the fight, but Draco was in her sights.

The water had almost completely drained away now, only a few inches covering the grass like a layer of crystal, water forming clear droplets that rolled down the deathly still teen's body and joining that pool of crystal still swimming around him to the corners of his wide open blue-grey eyes.

The raven woman fell beside her nephew, mouth opening and closing, trying to think of the right words. "Draco?" she said quietly, stroking his cold face softly.

"With this…circle I enter, I…I die for my family a-and I …. take into myself…the-the power to…" he breathed, voice trembling before disappearing completely"...destroy…". His eyes faded, the flickering glaze of light in his eyes stilling, mouth falling open with a last exhale of breath. Bellatrix let out a harsh cry, covering her mouth with both her hands and burying her face on the boy's chest.

"Take him with us, he can be blessed and relieved of any curses before we bury him." Minerva McGonagall's voice whispered from above, looking upon her lifeless dark student with barely concealed despair. Bellatrix was aware that the fighting had stopped, and her mind briefly tracked to Lucius but turned back to Draco almost instantly.

"What of these two?" Arthur Weasley asked, uneasy about the concept of letting them go.

"They don't need any more wars tonight. They shall be allowed to grieve for the boy for as long as they need." Minerva replied sternly. Bellatrix was barely aware as they moved Draco's body from beneath her, or when Lucius gained consciousness hours later and came over to comfort her. She barely looked up when daylight broke the violet mountains in the distance, or when Lucius said it was time to leave.

Draco was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring them back.

**2**

Madam Pomfrey had seen many things in her life, but never had she ever witnessed a dead student dragged into the Hogwarts infirmary two days before the start of the new school year. Nor had she witnessed a dead boy with a life source.

She'd been restocking on her skeleton growth formula for the new year, as most students used it at least once or - as in Harry Potter's case - more during their life at Hogwarts. Their school wasn't really very good at catching the random duels between students before they ended with hospitalizations. And for some reason, no matter how angry or hateful the students could be, they never revealed their opponents when questioned.

Suddenly, the staff of Hogwarts rushed into the room, knocking over a cart with flowers in vases on their way in. No one aside from her spared a moment to grieve the plants, aside from a wavering look from Ms Sprout of course. It was then she recognized the student. He'd been to the infirmary before, most of the time it was exaggerated cases but once he'd been seriously ill and so stubborn about coming to her it had taken two of his housemates to drag him there. Strange, the boy would whine and complain about nothing while Mr Potter had no bones left in his arm a few beds away, but when he's about to die from pneumonia he refused to even open his lips for a treatment potion.

The boy was paler than usual, and extremely damp as though he'd been under water for too long. His lips were partially dry and cracked, but if the pale blue colouring to them was anything to go by, she'd say he was deceased. His skin was so translucent she could see his bluish veins spidering through his flesh, though they were not pulsing. Hurrying over to him, she checked his wrist, to find that he did indeed have no pulse. Opening his closed eyelids, she noticed the whites of his eyes had turned red as they do when being strangled. Indeed, she could see that he had been killed from asphyxiation, a purposeful murder if the perfect slashes on his chest were anything to go by.

But despite the coldness of the body, she could tell that the boy's blood had not coagulated, thickening as blood usually does after death as it is no longer being pumped around the body. And his skin was cold, too cold even for death. The wounds on his chest were still bleeding having not had the time to clog, so the body should have been warm. Instead, it felt as though it had been kept preserved on ice. The body was usually stiff in death, also, but never so stiff as to not be able to remove something from a deceased person's grip. But this boy's fist was clenched around something his hand was absolutely refusing to let go of.

Closing her eyes, she almost jumped away from the boy from shock. The boy's life-force and magical core were still happily pulsating with life.

"He's not dead." she said, brow creasing at Albus and the staff who had gathered around. "Close your eyes, you can feel it. He's still alive." the headmaster's brow furrowed in thought, before he raised his wand to the boy's temple. Dragging out a thick blue string, which then swirled around like a wisp of smoke, his eyes widened as the others within the staff murmured.

Dead bodies didn't have memories.

"How can this be? What is going on Albus?" Minerva asked, folding her hands together to hide their shaking from everyone else's view. The headmaster swallowed thickly before answering.

"I don't know, but this memory will help me find out."

He left the infirmary, the staff following closely behind.

**3**

"What was that?" Snape said finally, his voice thick with pain from the possible loss of his godson. "You cant be telling me that he's cast his soul into that bloody ball he wont let go of!" he snapped. Dumbledore held his hands up, calming the man wordlessly before speaking.

"I understand this is difficult to understand, but I heard the chant myself. It is of a very old, western style of magic, mostly based around nature and the beliefs of Manon. How he learnt of this type of old, powerful magic is completely beyond me."

"So your saying that because Draco believes in, in butterflies and flowers that he's able to throw his soul around without any which way of getting back into his original body?" Rolanda Hooch snapped sharply, her voice piercing the brief silence.

"In a way, yes." Dumbledore said quietly. "Manon magic is focusing the magical core on nature's energies rather than fantastical ones that we base our own magic on. The simple elements and muggle creatures are examples, but the forces of day and night are most commonly used as they are the most powerful. Not just anyone can call on this magic; the user must be totally dedicated and serving to Manon, the creator of all things." the old man said quietly.

"Religious magic? That's bullocks and you know it!" Snape shouted, slamming his fist on the headmaster's desk. "Manon does not exist."

"Manon exists if you believe in it, Severus. Unfortunately, the user must call on only Manon magic; a slight downside. Another disadvantage is the literal chances one takes using this magic. Say one wrong thing and it could be your life on the line." Minerva added, supporting Dumbledore completely. She, herself, had been dedicated to Manon magic when she was younger. But becoming a teacher had made it impossible for her to do.

"So, say this magic is really what Draco has been using. Does that mean that he can't use a Bogart or touch a unicorn?" Professor Sprout asked quietly.

"No. He just cant use the magic that relates the rest of us to them. He will never be able to bond with a unicorn, but he can ride and feed one just like the rest of us. He could never be affected by anything a Bogart does to him if the fear doesn't appeal to him, but he can still cast the Ridikulus charm on it, so long as the magic is from within and not from his wand." Minerva elaborated. Sprout nodded, understanding the basic laws Draco was being governed by.

"So what do we do about Draco." Rolanda asked, her yellow eyes turning on the headmaster.

"We break the seeing stone."

"Wont that destroy him?" Minerva asked. Albus shook his head.

"No, it will destroy the haven he's hiding in. The stone isn't a Horcrux, it's a place for Draco to seal himself within for protection. Just remember this, he's been granted the power to destroy his enemies - if we can turn him away from Voldemort then imagine the help he will undoubtedly be to Harry Potter." Albus replied. A murmur of agreement passed over them all in a wave.

"So what do you suggest? Lock the two of them in detention until they stop fighting?" Snape asked sarcastically. Minerva snorted, gaining his attention.

"If that's what you think will work, but I personally have other ways I know of." she said quietly. Snape was about to reply with an insult when Filch suddenly piped up.

"Right now, I think you should be worrying about getting the Malfoy boy back to his body, don't you?" he drawled, eyes searching each of them separately and knowingly. Albus nodded, agreeing with the caretaker.

"We wait. I will know when it is the right time to give him his life back; but now is not it."

"Albus, Malfoy is a boy, not a weapon. You seem to forget this sometimes, sir." Minerva shot, Severus nodding. The old man stopped for a moment, his hand stroking his beard slowly in thought. Eventually, he gave a defeated sigh.

"You are right." he said quietly.

"Should we alert his family that he is alive?" Snape asked. The old master shook his head, earning a curios look and spared glances from the professors.

"It is best that no one know for now. Inform Miss Granger and the others when they get back to school." he replied.

Snape's eye ticked. "Why Miss Granger?" but at this, Dumbledore just shook his head.

**4**

Hours later, they stood around Malfoy's bed in the infirmary, the seeing stone in Severus's hand ready to be cast onto the ground. He gave a wavering look toward Minerva before releasing his grip on the stone, watching it roll slowly out of his hand. Time slowed as it neared the ground, until finally the perfect shape of the sphere was destroyed against the marble.

Draco's body arched off the bed suddenly, a terrible scream tearing from his throat. His arms and legs convulsed before jutting out to the side, hands hooked like claws. The boy's eyes opened, rolled back and white, face red and steadily darkening. During each scream, the boy only had time for short harsh intakes of breath, body held down by several professors to restrict his movement, lest he injure himself in any way.

As the seizure ended, Draco falling into a deep sleep, breath sucked in and out heavily. Minerva stood back, eyes wide with horror, while Severus stared at his hands intently.

"I…I've never witnessed a seizure before…" Minerva said softly, unsurely. "When will he wake up, Albus?"

"I have no idea."

**5**

In life … we all do things we don't want to. The point of life is living with the cards we've been dealt and trying to get a hold of the game, and win. Sometimes, in our struggle to find the best hand, we hurt a loved one. Sometimes we lie, cheat, steal, deceive, plot, hurt; you name it.

When confronted with these mistakes, we say that we never meant to do it, that we're sorry. But in life, there is 'we' and 'they'. 'They' don't care, they don't feel even a bit of remorse over what they have done, for their actions against others, even if it leads to someone else's demise. Some people don't feel the guilt. Some people do sadistic things, horrible and nasty things. You can look in their direction and not even notice they are one of those people.

You can look at them afterwards and think 'why? How could you?' but they wont even care. They can see the horror in your eyes, and they wont even know that the wrongs they committed were even wrong in the first place. And the few that do just don't care.

But sometimes, these people are made. And they are made from those who you least expect.

It's not an illusion. These people exist. And they are very, very real.

* * *

**A/N:** finally, chapter one is done. About the beginning part, it was sort of a miniature Prologue, but I refuse to tell you just what part of the story it's from.  
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of **'The Hangman'**, and if you're wondering what the story is inspired from, it's got several relevant meanings throughout the entire story.  
You know the game 'Hangman' where for every wrong answer, you draw another part of the man and when he's finally hung you lose? Well the original idea was taking that smug person who's _hanging the man_ and making you lose and turning it into Draco Malfoy. Only it's a literal aspect in this story; Draco has been given a different power to that of which people (including himself) seem to think. And with that power, he has no idea how to control it, just how to use it, which are in a sense two different things. Think about the other people in this story as being the innocent stickman waiting to be hung lined up in a que, and this 'second split aura' Draco has thanks to the Manon Magic is the one drawing the rope and giving them the push from the chair.

This story will hold suicide themes, slash (homosexuality), lemon (sexuality), course language, supernatural and horror themes, violence/battle violence, pedophilia (though only minorly mentioned), innacurate information (It is based during the sixth year, but a lot of the timeline has been shifted for the purpose of the story, as have some of the spells/charms/curses and properties of the magical world [including bending of the Patronus and Animagi laws] and the Ministry of Magic has less authority in this story)

Thankyou for reading so far, and I hope you will continue to watch this story.  
Take care,  
**~MK**


	2. Eye of the Needle

**=The Hangman=****  
Myurra-K**

There's a shadow just behind me, trying every single step I take so as to remain inconspicuous just that moment longer. But I know it's there. It's waiting, waiting just like that female raven who would follow me everywhere and watch me with it's white eyes, preening it's feathers and cawing harshly. That raven still follows me, but not today. Today it's a shadow, replacing the animagus of which I'd grown so used to having around me.

She would never leave me alone, so keen on keeping me for herself. She resorted to her animagus, as though I had not known it was her following me. But I could not give her what she wanted, as much as I desired to. Because of that, she'd grown spiteful, reassuring herself that I'd give no one else the pleasures I couldn't give her. Though, if she were honest, she wished to indulge more in the sins of the flesh, which in the end is what we all desire to a large extent.

But today, that raven is not following me, beating it's wings insistently against the air and swooping me. Today, it's a shadow. I guess, it's always been a shadow, but this one is following me purposely. This one is malicious and cruel, directing all the guilt and despair over my actions at me and only me. As though I had caused it. It's voice whispered in my ear, hissing at me of the blame and pointing it's sharp finger at me and directly into my spine, as though it couldn't reach anywhere further.

The shadow is here now. I'm standing, directly facing the sun pouring through the archways in the centre of the block, particularly the centre one I'm standing by. As I turn around, I gaze at the elongated shape the building's formation was throwing on the sandy stoned ground under the assault of the setting sun. And there it was, leaning casually against the side with it's arms folded and presumably facing right back at me; though I couldn't tell because it was, after all, just a shadow.

It takes me a while to realize that the shadow following me is my own.

* * *

**The Hangman**

**-Chapter II-**

**Eye Of The Needle  
**

**1  
**

I don't know what it is I'm trying to do, but I'm guessing I'm trying to open my eyes. This place is so dark, but I can feel the irritation of dried tears where my eyelids remain stuck together. I tried to move my arm, but I'm not sure if I did or not. I felt a slight tingle where I suppose my face is, and the pressing along with the slight sensation of touch on my hand and my face as they connected gently.

But without lowering my arm, I forced myself to try and grab my hair and see if I could feel it; I felt my fingers curl around the sheets at my side, and I resolve that I never moved my arm in the first place.

I hear a distant ringing in my ears, and all I want to do is open my eyes. But they seem to be sewn together, for I can't part them. The ringing fades to desperate shouting of familiar-but-not voices. Wherever I am, and whatever I'm doing there, they shouldn't be here with me. I'm in a safe place, but I just want to open my eyes.

I want to leave. They shouldn't be here, none of us should. This is _too_ safe, _too_ comfortable.

The strange thing is that I feel my eyes burning as though they were wide open and had been for ages without blinking - like my eyes were too open, open as far as they could go. And yet, I could feel them glued tightly closed, still I could see nothing.

The double sensations were strange, confusingly so, but I stopped straining my eyes open and I felt the stinging disappear as I _'blinked'_. The shouting in my ears was growing louder, but there was also a kind voice. It was soft, soothing, telling me to open my eyes. I tried to tell it I already did, but it kept insisting.

I opened my eyes, and to my surprise it felt as though my eyes were burning once again from keeping them open too long. The light instantly assaulted me, and I found myself blinking multiple times before it disappeared and morphed into my surroundings. It still hurt to have my eyes open, and I felt a strange sense of loss now that I was back in this noisy world where nothing was quiet anymore.

I wanted to go back, maybe the safe comfortable place wasn't so bad. But I couldn't, someone beside me was telling me to stay with them. It was a kind voice, the same one that was telling me to open my eyes. I listened to him.

Eventually, the burning went away though my temples throbbed in disagreement. Now that light wasn't the only thing I could see, I recognised the shapes of the alcoves and the dancing patterns in the stained glass windows. My eyes, still blurry, started to take in the things closer to me than the impossibly high ceiling and moving paintings in the distance.

I could see shapes. I don't know how else to describe them, but at the moment they were shapes; different sized dark shapes that loomed over me. Without even realising I'd blinked, though I was sure I'd kept my eyes open, the dark shapes transformed into familiar figures I recognised.

And _loathed_.

Around me, the redheaded siblings, Ron and Ginny, stood clasping hands tightly - though who was comforting whom was a mystery as both looked about as horrified as the other. Potter stood to the side, arms folded and an expression of complete apathy on his face, though whatever he'd seen had affected him because his eyes were haunted and only for me at the moment.

I realised something warm and moist was in my clenched palm, and something else warm was stroking the back of my hand placating me; though I didn't look until that same soothing touch brushed my brow. Glancing over, I wasn't sure whether to be disgusted, relieved or something else entirely when I seen Granger was sitting beside me with a sad, almost sorrowful glaze in her eyes.

The beautiful mudblood didn't let go of my hand when I locked eyes with her, but I could see she was scared of what I'd say.

I tried to open my mouth, but it was glued together too. But for some reason, my throat felt raw - as though I'd been screaming for hours. My jaw was not relaxed but clenched hard, my lower jaw fitting in behind my upper tightly, my tongue leaving no room for anything between. I felt my lips part but not my teeth, and Hermione pressed a slender finger to my lips.

"Shh, you wont be able to speak properly for a while anyway. You're probably really numb." she informed. I realised that my mouth had that bitter taste that you get when you don't swallow your own saliva, and a metallic taste of blood I was familiar with but didn't like very much either way.

Unclenching my jaw, I ran my top row of teeth over my tongue, wincing in pain when I came across a very open very new wound. The muscle in my mouth was swollen and bleeding, which was noticed when a small amount of blood spilled over my lower lip and over my chin. I licked the trail before it could disappear down my neck, and I seen Ron flinch in disgust. My mouth was full of the taste, however, so it made no difference to me.

Grunting, I closed my eyes and pushed the back of my head against the headboard, using it to slide my body further down the bed so I was laying completely down rather than having my head propped up. Making an odd sound between pained protest and utter exhaustion, I tried to speak.

Why couldn't I speak? My attempt came out garbled and slurred; she was right, I was numb. I couldn't feel anything but pain, but my body still felt like a dead weight. How long had I been asleep? How did I even end up here in the first place?

I was frightened; my sleep had been too deep and possibly induced by a hex or a potion. Who knows what words could have tumbled from my lips?

As I continued to try and focus on the things around me and the people, I found Granger's voice soothing for the first time in my life and I couldn't help but listen to her. She was blathering on about some sort of old doll she'd been given the summer holidays by her parents; usually I wouldn't be interested but I was listening anyway. Several times, she told me to keep trying to squeeze her hand whenever I could. Though I know she felt a slight increase in pressure, the sympathetic crease of her brow told me it wasn't enough just yet.

As feeling moved into my body as though my soul had just laid back down inside me, I gave her hand another squeeze.

"You're getting there, Draco. You're body just isn't used to waking up afterwards." I opened my mouth and before she could tell me not to speak, I tried again. I was aware of the blood on my lips and running down the corner of my mouth again, but I couldn't stop it this time. Ginny was beside me then, wiping it away with her sleeve before taking out her wand.

For a moment, I winced, though I wasn't sure why. She smiled apologetically toward me before casting a healing spell. I found the metallic taste in my mouth disappearing almost completely, and nodded at her despite how much it hurt my still aching temple to do so.

"Wha…ha'en-d ta…me…h'mio-ne…" I tried, though I knew it made no sense she seemed to understand me.

"You've been having seizures since you got here. This is the first one that Ron and the others seen, but I've been here since Dumbledore first told me. You grabbed my hand in an episode while I was trying to hold you down about an hour ago, before Harry and the others came. I missed breakfast trying to bring you out of it so they came looking for me." she said. For a moment, I was angry at the other three even being here, then her too; I was a Malfoy - I didn't need coddling. And then, the reality hit me.

"See'jure? How ca' tha'…be…"

"Not even I've been briefed on that yet. Snape said you'd tell when you were ready but…" she paused, staring at my bare forearm adjoining the hand she was still grasping. There, a vicious scar made from fire emblazoned my skin - the dark mark. The dark mark that had been removed.

It all hit me at once, and before I knew what I was doing I sat up in the bed, pressing my back to the headboard, never minding the fact I had no clothes beneath the sheets. I felt the tight restriction of bandages around my neck and my chest, and glancing down with horrified eyes I caught sight of the criss-cross of slightly coarse off-white material across my pale chest.

Letting go of Granger's hand, I tore at the bandage around my throat and my chest. I had to see, I had to! It couldn't have really happened, I didn't really go through with my plan. I didn't betray Tom or my family. I didn't curse myself into Manon's seal of ultimate protection. I'd thought I'd convinced myself it was stupid.

Despite the yells of Hermione and the shocked gasp of Ginny as she flung herself back into Harry, I finally managed to rip the bandages off. Still, as I stared at my chest, I couldn't believe it. The perfect 'X' shaped scar was deep and clear, and a burnt ring around my neck where Tom had held me by my throat under water…

…I couldn't believe they were there.

"No…" I breathed. I tried to touch the mark on my chest, and despite the sensation that I was touching my skin, and despite the indent touch would make on flesh that I could clearly see from how close I was to myself, I had not raised my arm. For a moment, I was enthralled with how I was able to induce touch without moving my body.

And then, as Harry's hand came to rest on my shoulder, I jerked back physically _and_ figuratively into the moment. Harry's eyes were on the mark around my neck at first, before trailing to the grizzly scar on my chest and then to the_ all-too-obvious_ mark on my arm. I clasped my other hand to my forearm to hide it from view, that other force I was controlling reached out to push him away at the same moment.

"What happened to you?" Ron spoke up; he still hadn't moved from the foot of the bed despite his sister leaving his side. He too was staring at my forearm even after I'd covered it. Harry's eyes were fixed on me, wondering the answer to that question as well as to how I'd pushed him away without touching him.

Hermione touched my hand, the violent grip around my own forearm going lax. That soothing voice in my ear told me to trust her - she knew more about this than the others did. Better than anyone did.

"Now's not the time for that, Ronald." she scolded. "Right now, Draco's boy and mind are recovering from that as well as seizing and waking for the first time I'm presuming. You never experienced epilepsy when you were a child, did you?" she asked.

I froze for a moment. "Onl'ey once." I said, my words getting stronger and losing their slur slowly but surely. She smiled softly, coaxing me to tell her about it.

"Father alwa's said no' to go in'o the kitchin; I was seven an' I went in. He hexed me wi' the cruciatus curse for a so long. I wen in'o a seizure and then a coma. Da' said I fell off my bal'cony." despite my words being more sounds than anything, she understood every attempted word. For once, I was glad she was trying to help.

I remember waking up from the coma after the seizure. It didn't feel like this. This feeling…it's…like I have no control and yet it feels as though…I have too much.

Too much of something, at least.

To my surprise, Harry seemed to understand what I had said. I heard his knuckles crackle as his fists clenched suddenly. I wasn't sure as to whether or not I should have leapt to my father's defence or not at that moment; I loved my father but that was one of the times he'd made me hate him. For some reason, something inside me just shut off.

I didn't care what they thought of my father for once. I didn't care that the piece of information I just gave could damn him into Azkaban's depths further than he should have had to go; cursing a minor with an unforgivable curse was up to three times the punishment of what it would have been to curse an adult with the same hex. And father had cursed me many times as a child; his way of discipline he said.

Yeah, _discipline_. It felt more as though I'd become a personal stress reliever; a way to ward off the pain in his dark mark. Only the production of dark spells could soothe the throbbing in a mark like that. I know, I'd felt it first hand. I'd become rather fixed on shooting hexes at anyone and anything that followed me during my entire bout as a death eater. I hoped it hadn't become a habit.

"Didn't anyone defend you?" she asked, seemingly forgetting what she had said to Ron earlier. I felt my lips quirk to the side before shaking my head.

"Who was gonna defend me? Not mother, not Bella, and certainly not Tom." I sighed, my ability to speak clearly returned completely much to my gratefulness. I didn't like sounding like a drugged idiot in front of them, it was more than slightly degrading.

"Bella and Tom?" Harry said, his eyes showing he recognised who I was talking about but didn't want to believe it.

"Bellatrix is my aunt, and Tom, well lets say that I was favoured…for a while," I said the last part quietly, though I knew they heard me.

"Voldemort, he did this to you?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed in a strange mix of emotions. I met his eyes, seeing a small amount of disgust there and instantly feeling that look wasn't necessarily directed at me, though the implications of it were enough to cause me shame. I was ashamed not because Harry himself was disgusted with me, but because that was the exact same look I received off my mother when she found out just how Tom favoured me. And not in the most appropriate of ways of course.

What had made it worse was that for a while I let him get away with it.

With Vella blood running through my veins, I naturally had an allure. And with my natural leaning toward the darker side of magic, my allure had taken on a more seductive charm. Not to mention my own personal preferences of a partner also being male, it seemed to be targeted at strong male wizards with the potential to harbor the darker side of magic selectively. No doubt my mate would be a dark wizard, and for a while, I'd even thought it was Tom. How pathetic.

I felt a familiar prickling at the base of my skull, and only then did it register that there was a strange tingling sensation in my temples; the same feeling I received when someone was trying to penetrate my mind. I threw caution to the wind and used the second invisible force I was conducting to throw them off. It didn't pass my notice when Potter's eyes flickered wide for a moment and he paled. That same force had deterred him twice now, though for some reason it was reacting too strongly to him. As though it didn't want Harry near me, but it didn't discourage him unless I did.

Without another word, I turned over onto my side away from him and fell into a comfortable doze, Granger's hand stroking my forehead in a motherly, or even a sisterly way.

**2**

The day went on, and they left me to rest for a while. It took a strange mix of deterring and encouraging from the Weasley boy to get her to leave my side, and I realised with a shock later on that the redhead had actually manipulated her into something. I wasn't sure whether to be amused or horrified, so I settled with a combination of both respectively as I settled into my other contemplations.

Now that I was on my own, I had time to think. My forearm was burning from the wound, but I was used to the sensation surprisingly, and the other force was gently kneading what felt like fingers into my flesh and soothing the ache. But there was another ache that I wasn't expecting. From the moment I'd awoken from my strange world of safety I hadn't been alone. I considered with slight disgust as to how I was feeling lost without the disgusting but still beautiful mudblood's firm grasp of my hand.

"What the hell is getting into my head now?" I hissed to myself, realising with a start that the ache was actually the deep panging of loneliness. I knew the feeling well, as I'd grown up feeling the same thing for my entire life. But in the few short hours with the Golden trio plus one, I'd realised something. I really was lonely. Though the pangings were never_ this_ bad; why did it _hurt_ the moment they left my sight?

I felt my eye tick at an incessant pecking against the windows of stained glass, the female figure the glass image displayed was frowning angrily at the bird before huffing moodily and ignoring it. Outside the window, a dark raven was staring at me with wide, concerned white eyes which changed colours as the temperamental window she was perched before flushed and shifted before her.

So I'd come to the conclusion that I was lonely, but I never really thought of what to do about it. I could sit here and crave what I couldn't have, or I could do what I always did and acted my way through the whole thing to get what I wanted. After a moment's contemplation I realised my answer was there all along, though whether it was my answer or my father's I didn't consider.

I _love_ playing pretend.

**3**

"So…Granger what's happening to me?" I asked after an awkward silence was starting to dig a deep canyon of irritation and fear beneath my skin. I couldn't stop the tremble from my voice, or the look of fear that passed through my eyes. And, to my greatest embarrassment everyone had seen and heard it.

I think everyone was glad for the solemn mood I bring with me everywhere at this moment, for laughing definitely would not have been appropriate and despite knowing it, they know just as well as I do that they would have had it been any other way. They'd come back the next morning again, Granger sitting beside me in the same seat she'd vacated to the company of cold air the day before. She continued to stroke my hand and forehead pleasantly, and despite my initial reaction to flinch away from her in disgust I continued to let her touch me, even leaning into it.

"You…appear to have developed epilepsy due to severe trauma. Whatever it is that happened to you, it must have been bad." she said quietly, watching me. I averted my eyes, shame coming back all in one hit. I'd forgotten about it last night due to 'Dreamless Sleep' but now, with the provocation of course, I was remembering it all. I felt my eyes watering but before I allowed any to spill free I sucked it back. I could cry when no one else was near; the way I always do. They noticed my near breakdown, and for some reason as Ron leapt up to sit on the foot of the bed rather than standing a mile away as he had yesterday, and as Harry knelt down beside me, resting his folded arms on the bed beside me, I couldn't explain the warmth of gratefulness that passed through me at that moment.

I was already loosing my own personal fight. With a resigned internal sigh, I figured a small amount of procrastination couldn't hurt and resolved that I'd get a taste of what I couldn't have before seeking to destroy it once I left the safety of the hospital.

"So aside from that, what happened to me." I said.

"You mean, you don't remember it?" I sighed heavily, realising the only way out of their questioning was to lie.

"I remember using a circle," Hermione's comment about 'circles' being old magic that no one used anymore passed over everyone without question. "I remember drowning; I…I remember dying."

"What about your life before that?" Ginny asked, speaking up for the first time. I don't believe I'd ever heard her voice before in my life aside from that one time in the bookstore, even yesterday she hadn't said anything after wiping the blood from my chin.

I enthralled my gaze on a piece of threadbare hem that was sticking up from the sheet. I considered covering my chest, but I realised that it was quite warm at the moment. I was naked under the sheets still, so any brief instinct to kick the blanket away was overruled without hesitation - there were females present.

"I remember the people and their names, including you lot, and I know that for whatever reason, we didn't like each other. I have my childhood memories, but after the first year of coming to this school I don't remember very much at all - just bits and pieces. And some god-awful girl named Pansy that I never want to see again." I said purposely, withholding a smirk at the agonised caw from the raven that had come back an hour or so ago to watch me through the same window which was losing it's patience with being pecked at.

They laughed at that, as I'd hoped they would. A devious part in my mind said this was my chance at redemption with Tom and my family. If I could work my way into the Gryffindor threads, despite being a Slytherin amongst them, I'm sure I could find a way to get on with my life in peace.

Making up with Tom and my family didn't mean joining them again, and after all they did to me I'd be surprised if I ever wished to see them again. But then, a small voice came to mind that was telling me to get a taste of the trust before seeking to destroy.

Suddenly, I remembered something. Something that would work well with them if I told them. I already knew I was well on my way to telling them before I could even consider not.

"Can I tell you something?" I said, not waiting for an answer to continue. "Tom, he uses circles in his magic. He and the others who are always with him, including my father. They use circles, but they don't use Manon magic."

"Circles without Manon magic?" Hermione asked, frowning. I understood her confusion; how one used a circle without Manon magic was beyond my own understanding, but that was what they had been doing. Still, the sacrifice of minutes of my life every night for almost a month had grown a bit much for it not to have been strong magic they were conjuring.

"Is that possible?" I asked with raised brows. She shrugged, still thinking hard on it.

"I'll have to research it." she said. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; always Granger.

I jumped with a small start as cool calloused fingers stroked just barely across my upper lip. I turned my incredulous gaze to Harry, who raised his brow at me and raised his pointer finger, showing me a droplet of blood that was stark crimson and glittering like melted rubies against his golden skin, ironically enough the colours of Gryffindor. Just like how his beautiful emerald eyes and my own liquid silver ones make up the colours of Slytherin.

I heard Hermione bustling about and complaining about running out of tissues before conjuring some. Pressing them to my nose until I moved my own hand to hold them there, I did my best to stop the nosebleed. Though I think she noticed I was more entranced with something else; more specifically watching how Harry seemed fascinated with the fact I actually bled the same coloured blood as he did.

**4**

I staggered into the great hall without anyone's support aside from a simple pair of muggle contraptions a few mornings later. I was still numb and weak on my feet, which didn't always seem to want to go the same direction as me, but I managed well enough that I refused crutches until Pomfrey had shoved them under my arms and hissed a spell that bound my fingers around the handles. They were hard and rigid under my armpits, and incredibly uncomfortable. Given time, I'd soon be considering them painful, too.

For a moment, I wasn't sure where to sit. I was, after all, slightly disoriented still. My eyes met with the Golden trio's a few metres away, but as Harry and Hermione were about to stand up to offer me a seat between them, Pansy and Blaise were instantly at my side and fussing over me. Blaise, who was completely infatuated with Pansy, as well as being my own best friend or the closest thing to it, seemed torn between either placating Pansy's out of control nerves or offering me a hand.

I considered manoeuvering around them and going over to the Gryffindor table, who were watching me with concern and understanding. They would support me even if I chose to sit with my own table. Instead, I did something completely different. I turned around and, painfully slowly, edged myself out of the great hall and back toward the common rooms. I wasn't hungry. I did notice, however, that my body felt considerably lighter, as though I'd left something of myself in the hall.

**5**

Pansy and Blaise recovered from their shock of Draco leaving them standing in the middle of the great hall. They were speechless now that they were feeling like spectacles, but she more so than Blaise, who simply coddled her and patted the seat on the bench beside him when he sat down. Huffing in annoyance and disappointment, she did so. For a while, everything seemed fine, until a prickling sensation started moving up her legs. She shivered instinctively, taking a harsh bite into a piece of toast.

Her cloak slid off her legs, revealing pale stocking-less flesh and an impossibly high skirt. Blaise noticed but didn't say anything, copping a good view while he still could. She'd more than likely slap a memory charm in his face if he'd said something, demanding he could either forget about her legs or he could forget about his future kids.

To Pansy, however, it felt as though a hand was resting on her inner thigh closest to Blaise. She glanced over at him several times before she was able to positively gauge that it wasn't him touching her. She passed it off as imagining it, that is, until the hand continued to move up her thigh. Finally, it slid her skirt up to her hip, exposing her leg from her impossibly high underwear to her short socks and black shiny shoes the same colour as her hair.

Squealing, she attempted to pull her skirt down, only to find it wouldn't move. The noise, of course, attracted attention. Several boys glanced at Blaise, hooting encouragements. To them, it seemed that Pansy was pulling her own skirt up trying to entice Blaise. Several murmurs of disapproval and disgust came from the Gryffindors behind them.

Finally, the pressure holding her skirt relented and she tugged it back down to cover her thighs just that small amount more. Blaise, unsure what to think of the girls odd behaviour, slid down the seat slightly toward Goyle. It wasn't as though he didn't think the same thing as everyone else, but though he joked about sex like it wasn't a big deal he'd never really had as much experience as he claimed to. He only slept with women he thought were perfect for him, and his idea of women generally included self preservative in the description somewhere. So this behaviour from Pansy was slightly if not more daunting to him.

Pansy ignored the looks and whispers, her face flame red with embarrassment at her little show. She had calmed down considerably for the moment before she felt the ominous _'hand'_ on her leg again. This time, she felt two though. One was on her knee and pressing down considerably more than the other one, which was creeping up under her skirt. She brushed her top when she felt the _hand_ move off her leg and undo the top button. She still couldn't see anyone down there, and she was _certain_ it wasn't Blaise.

Then, the _hand_ shot up under her skirt, grabbing the edge of her panties and yanking them down slightly. She screamed this time, throwing herself back off her seat, only to fall face-first when the _hand_ didn't let go of her panties and instead dragged them to her ankles, effectively tripping her. Her skirt flew up, her only sense of dignity was gained moments later when she yanked her cloak over her bare backside and kicked her panties from her ankles and under the Slytherin table as discreetly as possible.

Holding a hand to where the top button had been undone to keep her top together, and another hand to her skirt to keep it from flying up, she ran out of the great hall, shoving the doors open with her shoulder and barging down the corridor in embarrassed tears and flushed with anger and humiliation. Behind her, the entire hall was laughing louder than she'd ever heard them before.

And minutes later, after her panties had been thrown from table to table to be made fun of, admired and thrown at one another, and everyone had calmed down aside from Blaise who looked both disgusted and enthralled; which only proceeded to make him look even more disgusted than before; the teachers silenced the students and McGonagall, after snatching the underwear from Seamus's head where Dead had tugged it over, went in search of the poor embarrassed girl who everyone was assuming had her clothes hexed; she wasn't the friendliest person in Hogwarts after all.

Harry, with a grin on his face and a glint of memorable mirth in his eye, stabbed his fork into a pile of paster and hoped to get lucky rather than pay attention to what he was eating. The Gryffindor didn't miss when something pressed between himself and Hermione, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning against him. He leaned away from whatever it was for a moment, put off from the affection from something he couldn't even see, but when the grip didn't relent he did instead and sat straight again, allowing whatever it was to lean against him once more. It was the same force that had pushed him away from Draco twice, only now it was humming, almost vibrating, against him. It was warm and comforting, and Harry couldn't help but lean against it snugly, feeling it playing with his hair and slowly shifting into his lap, almost tentatively as though expecting him to shove it off.

Harry closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, and almost gasped when he realised it felt exactly like an increadibly light person was sitting on his lap, hands threading through his hair gently and clinging to his sleeve, short feathery hair brushing under his chin and breath ghosting across his collarbone. Opening his eyes, Harry was both dissappointed and confused to find that no one was actually sitting on his lap and the sensations he had felt when he'd closed his eyes were reduced to a mere pressure and tingling. But whatever it was, it was still there.

And it came from Draco Malfoy.

Harry knew the thread was only just being pushed through the eye of the needle; the peices had yet to be measured and cut before they could be sewn together.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, I'm glad this chapter came out better than I'd planned. I originally didn't think Pansy would be such a delicate part to the pattern, but she is. Not that I have anything against any of the characters (Except for Dumbledore because I think he wants too much from Harry) so anyone who I cajole in this story is merely for the fic and not my own personal opinion (except Malfoy; he's my favourite character plus I adore the guy who he's acted by [Tom Felton] because the man just knows how to make a character connect)  
Anyway, the whole prologue thingy at the beginning of each chapter will eventually fall into place, but I will give you a hint. The timeline for the prologues is sporadic, but coincides importantly with each chapter. They will all be, eventually, part of the story so the entry to each chapter is more like a teaser in the future. The first chapter and the prologue had the signifficance of the seeing stone and the want to protect his family, while this chapter focusses on his Raven stalker and what he refers to as his Shadow (which is really a projection of himself). The next one will be based on Harry and the loss he feels when the presence isn't with him.  
In case people dont know yet, this IS a DracoxHarry story, and it will have hetero couples (HermioneRon, onesided GinnyHarry and onesided HermioneDraco. The other pairings I believe I made clear at the end of this chapter [BlaisexPansy and onesided PansyDraco] but the focus is on Harry and Draco) . The story is in first POV (Harry and Draco; Draco mostly) and third POV (self explanatory). I will admit, this story is supposed to make sense, and most of the minor details are ones that come into play in the future.

**The Force/Presence**: (D**O** N**O**T R**EA**D **I**F Y**OU** D**O** N**O**T L**I**K**E** F**I**C SP**OI**L**E**RS)  
This presense or force is a projection of Draco. without the presence with him, Draco is light in weight, has no desire for food but a strong desire for pleasures of the flesh, has an almost constant thirst for liquids, and is often unwell looking though he feels fine and as though there is less of a weight pressing on his shoulders. Though, sepperated from the presence too long will cause severe illness and a detatchment, similar to the symptoms of a severe withdrawal. The reason the projection reacts so strongly to Harry when it's with Draco is because Draco is in denial and has control over his own projection, though the projection cant feel things like denial and only knows instinct and what Draco wants it to do. If he didn't want Harry to touch him, instincts told it that Draco was angry with his mate and it threw Harry away, because the projection doesn't feel the confusion Draco example was when Draco wanted to humiliate Pansy when he was in the hospital by joking about her, and the presence succeeded the humiliation in the great hall - though it was mostly out of Draco's will it was also because it's instincts are telling it that Harry is Draco's mate and Pansy is a threat. The projection is incapable of emotion, only instinct, and therefore does not know when to stop. Basically, Pansy has become Draco's first target, albeit unwittingly. When the projection is alone, it's instincts tell it what Harry wants and needs, and is never wrong as Harry is Draco's mate and therefore it's instincts contribute to Harry's welbeing and desires. The projection is not a ghost or a possession/demon, nor is it a living soul but rather an enhancement of the basic instinct of one. When Draco bonded with the Manon magic, he gave himself to the magic and laws of nature, which also requires him to be goverend by basic human instinct. Until he learns this and can succeed it on his own, or no longer serves Manon/Nature's magic, the presence will stay with him.

Take care people and goodnight,  
~MK


	3. Splinter And Splice

**=The Hangman=****  
Myurra-K**

I'm dreaming, but I'm not waking up.

I see myself walking down the corridor, my shadow stretched longer behind me than it should have been, the arms of the detail-less dark shape beating away at the twin shape the raven circling my head was creating.

The raven moves away from my head, stopping before me to change into it's original form. The girl, Pansy was her name, pale faced and steely eyed stood with her arms folded under her breasts, hip cocked to the side in a way that said she was going to stand comfortably no matter how it looked. Her hair, dark as night, was cut straight so her fringe brushed her eyelids and her side bangs curled under her chin.

I could see from the corner of my eye that my shadow was moving beside me now, before swinging in front of me. The morning sun had moved from horizon to horizon, now in the midst of setting with the fall of evening, changing sides so that she was no longer surrounded by the white glow of sunrise, but now I by the yellow one of sunset. She held out her hand to me, as if to say that I should follow her.

For a moment, I almost took it. But her eyes, a dull blue, were not the ones I was searching for. My shadow, cast in front of me completely now, was reaching out to claw at her, but not quite reaching her. It beckoned me to take a step closer, but then it changed it's mind and told me to take a step back.

I did so, and then turned to walk away. Behind me, a pair of warm passionate green eyes locked with my own, and a nod of familiarity followed. He was cast within a golden halo of light from the setting sun, and the caws of the raven behind me started again. I seen Harry flinch, and he beckoned to me, scared.

Behind me, my shadow had caught the shadow of the raven finally and wasn't relenting, strangling it while shaking it harshly. I winced, trying to tell it to stop.

"You have the power to destroy." Harry suddenly told me, and held his hand out to me more confidently. On the ground, his shadow did exactly as he did, rather than moving with it's own life and own state of mind. I told myself that shadows can't do what they want, and that Pansy the raven wasn't really dying. Her agonized, strained and breathless caws for my attention were waning, and reluctantly I held out shaking hand to the person in the opposite direction.

The trembling subsided when our touches met, his large warm hand encircling my own. I felt him tug me close to him, his other hand resting on the small of my back. It was warm also, and I felt my shadow behind me vice it's grip around the raven even harder, though I was still telling myself it wasn't happening. His chin was on my shoulder, and I could tell he was staring at the raven struggling in mid-air and dying rather than watching what was really happening portrayed by the evening sunlight behind me.

It was as though he was saying in his own way that he didn't blame me.

"Don't abuse destruction, Draco." he whispered against my neck, his lips moist and comforting as he pressed them to my nape. I tensed with horror when I heard the last deathly cry of the raven and then the sickening crunch of her neck, Harry's hand in my hair stroking it to soothe me while he was whispering that it would be alright, not allowing me to turn around.

Now, I'm screaming, but still I'm not waking up.

* * *

**The Hangman**

**-Chapter III-  
**

**Splinter And Splice**

**1**

I found out the next day at my first class, Care of Magical Creatures, that Pansy had been found in the abandoned girl's lavatory in Moaning Myrtle's embrace about three hours after she'd ran out of the great hall. Blaise refused to tell me why she ran out, but if his dark skin could flush I'm sure it would have been. I could practically feel the heat coming off him whenever he nervously shifted his gaze, which was always whenever the class brought up the subject of Pansy.

She'd locked herself in her room and refused to come out until everyone stopped talking about her. I felt bad for her; humility was something she wasn't used to and certainly wasn't ready to swallow whole.

So instead, with the want to know what had happened to Pansy, I shrugged my crutches back into motion and made my way over to the group of Gryffindors studying their strange looking swamp pixie Hagrid had dumped on them and told them to take care of while he went to fetch one that escaped it's cage when he was handing it to the Ravenclaws.

Dean was the first to notice me hobbling awkwardly over, and I was tempted once again to throw the crutches to the ground and continue without them. I didn't need them after all. They were just getting in my way and, as I'd predicted, they were becoming painful.

Once Dean noticed, however, Seamus and Neville noticed. And then Ron. It took four people before a vaguely friendly expression met me, but he and his friends weren't quick enough. Seamus stood up, walking over to me abruptly and folding his arms over his chests, hands under his armpits. It was chilly after all, and we did almost anything to at least keep our hands warm. Writing with cold numb hands was more painful than it sounded.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" the Irish halfblood sneered. I opened my mouth to talk, but Dean had caught sight of the still healing wound on my tongue. Ginny's spell had stopped the bleeding and closed the wound, but she couldn't heal it completely as it was an oral injury and that required practice; something she didn't have and wasn't willing to mess with.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean asked, more to himself than anyone else. I ignored his statement, but Seamus didn't.

"Whatever it was, you bloody deserved it." Seamus snapped, moving his hands to his sides and clenching his fists.

"Seamus!" Hermione shouted, the boys in her house all flinching despite not being directly addressed by her. Even I think I winced a bit, and after seeing Ron's vague amusement as his eyes met mine I know I did. He almost appeared to be jeering at me, as though years of dealing with it had hardened him from it.

I didn't even realize that Harry wasn't in my line of sight until he grabbed Seamus's collar and held him slightly off the ground, his toes barely scraping the dirt. I dropped the crutches to grab his arm and convince him to let his housemate go, but as my body lurched foreword I realized that my feet didn't want to move.

I couldn't move them. Just like everything else about my body, it seemed I had no control. They were firmly stuck in the ground. And I was falling.

However, it worked better than grabbing Potter's arm would have, as he instantly let his friend go and caught me as I stumbled foreword, the Gryffindor lowering me to my knees so I wouldn't harm myself and he wouldn't have to support me in mid air.

"What the hell…" I muttered under my breath. Harry's brow creased, and Hermione rushed over, quickly flanked by Ron. I heard her ask Harry what had happened, but without waiting for the dark-haired boy to answer for me, I did the honours.

"Granger, can you do me a favour?" I asked. She paused and frowned, before nodding hesitantly. "Check and see if I'm under any sort of body-binding curse, _please_?" I asked. I immediately flushed at the collective giggles and gasps at my use of manners, despite how obvious it was that I'd forced the word out.

Hermione giggled once before slapping a hand over her own mouth, nodding. She held her wand out, and I briefly considered what my father would think if he found out I was trusting a wand pointed at my person by a mud blood. I could still see the amusement in her eyes and the mirth twisting at her lips every now and then, but I did my best to try and ignore it. Harry was the only one who no longer looked amused.

A blue laser-like light shot from her wand as she pointed it at my toes, and the light left her wand, scanning up my body. She frowned at the end, trying it again. I asked her what was wrong, but she shushed me, which I found terribly annoying and embarrassing at the same time.

Harry's hand on my shoulder tightened, as though he also knew something was wrong. She pulled away, looking at me in befuddlement. I ignored the shiver of concern that washed over me before she turned her brown eyes to me.

"It's strange…Draco have you taken any potions from Pomfrey to structuralise your healing patterns whatsoever?" she asked. I shook my head, making an odd face.

It didn't go unnoticed by the class that she'd used my first name. I, however, was used to it as she'd been using it since I woke up in the infirmary; I hoped I could convince myself to use hers as well someday. The only person I was calling by their first name from Gryffindor was Harry, and I'd only realised that this morning when I was talking to Blaise and his name came up.

"Then I don't know what it could be. The only results I'm getting is a pleasant little shock at the end of the spell, it's never done that before. I mean, not when cast on only one person." I sighed, holding my hand up to my face. I concentrated on fisting my palm, and although I felt the sensations and I could see the indents of my nails in my skin, my fingers remained lax and open.

Suddenly, I figured I must have tried too hard as my _'nails' _cut crescent shaped wounds into my palm. I cried out under my breath, hiding my hand from view. Harry caught the sight of blood, and grabbed my wrist.

I couldn't suppress the shudder when he touched me, and out of shock I had the force push him away again. This time, he didn't look shocked which only proceeded to scare me. He looked me dead in the eyes, raising his hand when I tried to look away and grabbing my chin, tossing my head gently side to side as he examined my face.

I heard Ron ask him what he was doing, but he ignored his best friend and continued to stare into my eyes.

"Are you possessed?" he asked. I was about to open my mouth to protest, but I found I couldn't. I felt my eye twitching, and a darkness washed over my vision. I could hear everyone and feel everything, but I couldn't see them.

I felt myself falling back against the ground, arching off it. I could hear the screams of fright of the other students, and I could hear my own scream of terror ripping from my throat as I writhed and arched, my body bending dramatically in ways that couldn't have looked natural. Rather like a spider before it finally curls up and dies, legs twisted inwards and eyes blank and shiny, left to dry up as a husk with nothing to spare it.

It was pure agony. I wasn't flexible, and my muscles couldn't handle the stretching the convulsions my seizure were causing them. I felt my throat vibrating and throbbing raw as I continued to scream. I felt two sets of hands on me, one on each wrist. A pair of feminine hands pried my jaws open after I stopped screaming for a few seconds, shoving something that seemed familiarly like a piece of wood between my teeth.

I thought you were supposed to be unconscious when you had a seizure. And though I felt and heard everything, it still seemed as though I was in a control-less haze, and I was slowly fading out of it.

**2**

When I awoke, it must have only been moments later though it felt like hours had passed. In fact, I was almost sure hours had passed as I distinctly remember sitting down in some dark place and counting the each sound of water dripping in the near distance, each echo in the space around me making it seem that tiny bit longer.

I opened my eyes, and I was almost enthralled at the speckles of light that danced across my vision as the faces faded into focus. I seen Hermione staring at me, upside down. It took a moment to realise my head was on her lap. Ron was on my left side, holding my arm down while Harry was on my right, cradling my arm in between both of his so that it was bent at the elbow but not strained.

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, but I stuck with laughing despite my voice being hoarse and the wood shoved between my teeth.

So Hogwarts now knew my secret - I've developed epilepsy.

"Is it normal to laugh after a seizure?" Ron asked no one in particular. Hermione, with a blank and distant look on her face, muttered her reply.

"Sometimes, depending on the type of seizure. The one you seen in the hospital was a Grand Mal. This was just a screaming fit." I pressed my tongue to the rough wood and Harry released my arm to remove it. I absently ran my hand through his hair to placate him over what he'd witnessed. Ron seemed less disturbed than the last time, but that haunted look never left Harry's eyes. Neither did the solemn grieving look from Hermione's.

"I feel, surprisingly better." I admitted, though I wasn't ready to sit up. I was content with laying on the ground, bark and leaves sticking into my back and a root jutting against my shoulder blade. Hermione chuckled.

"Glad that makes one of us." she said, rubbing my temples soothingly. It only then occurred to me that my head was thumping.

"Why do you know exactly what to do, Hermione?" I asked, not even attempting to stop myself from calling her by her name. Besides, most of the class had run back to the castle to tell everyone I was possessed by a demon. The only ones lingering were a few familiar Gryffindors, Luna Lovegood and Blaise.

"I…don't know." she lied, I could tell she lied. But, as it was sensitive for me to talk about Voldemort right now, I knew I eventually would. Just like she eventually would tell us who it was that she knew was like me.

"Oh, blimey what 'appened 'ere?" Hagrid asked as he pushed through the scrub, a wooden cage in his large hand that held a pouting pixie sitting on the bottom. His pupils were fixed on me, eyeing me sceptically. He'd never really trusted anything to do with my wellbeing after I'd faked the severity of Buckbeak's attack in third year, which I admit to myself only that I had provoked on purpose.

"Malfoy, um…um…" Seamus tried elaborating, but realised that he didn't really know what had happened. He turned his eyes to me, frowning in thought as he stared at me.

"Malfoy fainted, Hagrid. Nothing to worry about." Luna said quietly, and I smiled in her direction. The girl may be airy but she knew the when and where of every situation. Hagrid though looked like he was going to ask why his favourite Gryffindors were fussing over me if I'd just fainted, but shook his head and thought better of it, walking back into the hut. He didn't bother asking where the rest of the class had literally run off to, either. Which was a good thing.

I don't believe we'd have the right answer for him if he did.

**3**

The next afternoon, the Golden trio spent their time rounding on the escaped members of their Care of Magical Creatures class, telling them that it was none of no one's business what had happened and that it was to be kept to themselves. And everyone who had been told outside of their class was hit with memory charms while their backs were turned.

Except for Filch, who'd been facing them. They'd hit him with a memory charm when he started going on a creepy rant about the Malfoy boy bringing his curse into the castle.

The three Gryffindors didn't know what to make of that statement, but couldn't deny it just as much as they couldn't accept it.

"So what do you think happened to him?" Ron asked, hands tucked behind his head at the base of his neck. The three of them were heading toward the infirmary where Draco had insisted he should stay that night, lest he have another attack. He didn't want all of his house knowing, it was bad enough that his grade knew.

"He's placed a spell on himself, that's what." Hermione said, shaking her head at Ron as though to say he should pay more attention.

"Why would he do that? I personally would not like to be experiencing what he is, now." the redhead continued. Harry stayed suspiciously silent throughout the whole time, reflecting on the moment when Malfoy had woken up. How he'd subconsciously leaned into the absent touch as Draco had sifted his fingers through Harry's hair. It was just like that force the night before. It felt exactly the same.

Hermione suddenly rounded in front of them in the middle of the corridor, a good enough distance each way to tell if someone was coming and to refrain from anyone else hearing them.

"Whatever spell Draco cast on himself, it wasn't meant for this. Don't you get it, Ron? Voldemort attacked him. Draco must have used some sort of protection spell, but something went wrong." she said, emphasizing the last word involuntarily.

"How could it go wrong?"

"He said he remembered dying, right? What if that had something to do with it. But I will tell you something. When I scanned him for body binding spells, the charm reacted as though I were scanning two people at once. There is no binding spell on Draco, he's cursed himself and its doing something to him."

"He did say the other day that he was having trouble moving what he wanted to." Harry said quietly. "If he wanted to move his hand, he cant. But for some reason, it feels as though it does."

Hermione frowned. "How so?" Harry shrugged, his eyes still blank in contemplation.

"I'll show you."

**4**

"What are we looking for again?" Ron asked, rubbing a hand through his hair before stifling a yawn. A bell chimed somewhere in the castle, sounding that they had an hour before curfew ended.

"Shush. Make sure he doesn't wake up." Harry said quietly. They were in the infirmary again, the place they were headed anyway. Harry grabbed the sleeping blonde's right hand, holding it out for Hermione and Ron to see. They both considered the marks, before Hermione stated they were made from nails.

"The bloody git," Ron huffed, folding his arms over his chest and throwing himself into the chair that Hermione usually favoured. Hermione smacked his shoulder lightly, but Harry stopped Ron from continuing with a shake of his head.

"I was watching him. His fingers were open like he was trying to catch something. But he was concentrating, and when I seen his fingers twitch I seen he was trying to close his hand. And then I seen it, something carved nail marks into his palm. It was like those bloody quills Umbridge made us write with, they cut into you somehow but you couldn't stop them." he explained, running his thumb absently over the marks on the blonde's pale skin.

No one noticed Draco's eyes flicker open for a brief moment before he closed them again, not without glancing at his hand in Harry's own.

"Really, is that why you asked him if he was possessed?" Ron asked. Hermione inclined her head toward him, questioning him with her eyes. He nodded soundlessly, running his fingers in longer movements gently over the blonde's hand and wrist.

"I wasn't sure." he said, "But I was certain that was what it was. But I've been possessed, Draco's eyes never changed once. They were just like they've always been. It was all him."

"So you're saying that this curse Draco's cast on himself, unwittingly of course, is creating a force field around or inside him?" the brunette girl asked, glancing at the sleeping boy and back again. Harry shrugged noncommittally.

"I'm just telling you what I know. And I know that he's got something following him, but…its like he's duplicated himself. The presence around him feels just like his own." the green-eyed raven said, looking down at the pale hand in his own, stopping the movement of his fingers momentarily.

"How do you know that? Did you feel it?" Ron asked.

Draco, feeling bored of sleeping and left out of the conversation about him, decided to '_wake up'_. His hand in Harry's tightened it's grip suddenly, his other arm stretching as he groaned dramatically. "Why must that be the first thing I wake up to, Weaslebee?" the blonde asked, teasingly.

Ron, realising the implications of the sentence he'd left hanging in the air, flushed with embarrassment. Hermione, in an attempt to please him, sat on his lap and leant back against him, murmuring something about there being no chairs left. Harry agreed with the statement and sat on the edge of Draco's bed, still unconsciously rubbing his fingers into Draco's sensitive flesh.

**5**

"So how come you're all cuddly with the Golden Potty support circle?" Blaise asked during our lunch break the next day. The subject of my episode the previous day at Care of Magical Creatures was silently bypassed by the other Slytherin, though whether it was conscious or not was something to be decided on.

I bit into the lolly I was sucking on with barely an absent minded thought about the pain that shot through my jaw. "Drop it, Blaise." I snapped. But for some reason, since my seizure, my influence over the other Slytherins in our grade was almost diminished. They were no longer scared of me; they'd seen my weakness.

An illness, one which I cannot escape, has now become my weakness.

"I don't think so." he said, standing firm. I sighed, realising that I had no choice but to resign for the moment and tell him.

"They're just a ploy, is all." he raised a flask of lemon guava sprite to his lips and muttered before taking a drink.

"It looked a bit more than a ploy to me, especially between you and Potter."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, slamming my palm against the ground in demand of an answer. Blaise grinned at me, but his eyes held a strange malice I hadn't seen before.

"The air between you was stagnant with magic, mate. My father and his girlfriend were like that when they first met. I know a pair of mates when I see one." he hissed. I frowned at him, ignoring the comment about Harry and myself and shifting to a more pressing matter.

Blaise was, after all, the closest thing to a best friend I had.

"Why the hostility." I stated, voice falling flat and expecting an answer. He snorted, turning to me and glaring.

"I don't need a reason to be hostile to a freak." he spat. It wasn't until I seen my shadow behind me shift without my having to move before I realised that he'd taken it too far. Soundlessly, I stood, spitting what was left of the boiled lolly and, as I'd been unaware of until now, coppery blood, which was still leaking from my gums at a small trickle like when you brush your teeth too hard.

I walked away, leaving him sneering behind me. All the while, I was confused as to why I didn't really feel anything other than a sharp pain in my chest. I felt…light. But the pain was almost unbearable, tearing through where my heart was and clamping tightly within my ribcage.

It wasn't until I crossed paths with Ginny that I felt the tears start to run down my cheeks at the harsh words my _best friend _had said to me. I let the redhead Weasley console me for the moment as she tried to get it out of me what had happened. Unsure as to why I was trusting her so readily, I allowed my words to spill from my lips explaining what had happened at Hagrid's cabin and what Blaise had just said to me.

She grabbed my wrist, demandingly dragging me behind her back toward where I'd come from and where Blaise would normally be. I didn't really want her touching me, but I didn't fight it either. She wasn't a threat to me; though it crossed thoughts with how strange the sight must have looked to all the students we both passed.

"Where is he; I'll rip his hair out." she snarled, and for a moment, I wondered if the girl and her friends really were destined for Gryffindor rather than Slytherin, or if maybe I myself were in the wrong place.

A loud wail came from behind one of the stone benches in the middle of the block, where Blaise and myself had been having our lunch break.

My chest was no longer hurting.

**6**

When Draco had left, Blaise contemplated the severity of his words. He hadn't meant to say them that horribly, but it was how he felt about the situation at the moment. He glanced back at his shadow, watching the shapes they made as the breeze brushed through his and Draco's hair.

He froze, staring hard at the movement of the shadow, watching what should have been the form of his best friend cast upon the ground raise it's hand to run through it's hair. He turned his eyes briefly beside him, noting that he was, indeed, alone.

The indent Malfoy had left in the grass was still there, not a single blade of grass was sticking up, as though something was still sitting there. Suddenly, the indent moved, and Blaise found his eyes turning to the shadow. He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse as he watched the shadow turn it's head to face him.

"Draco?" he asked tentatively. The shadow flinched, a hand drew back and, for a moment, Blaise expected to feel a punch to his jaw. However, when the shadow's hand ripped through his chest, the dark skinned boy couldn't even breathe over the pain.

Cold fingers grasped his heart, tendrils of ice shooting through his blood and to the tips of his bones, shredding him into pieces though he was still in tact. Blaise's eyes never left the shadow, though his vision's attack of vertigo and his will to sleep was overcoming him quickly. The shadow's other hand raised slowly, touching his own shadow's chin.

"No…ah…" Blaise shivered, agonising pain in his chest throbbing heavily and a cold solid grip on his chin directing his gaze upwards. Through one eye, the dark skinned boy could still see the shadows moving, Draco's shadow leaning over his own as though it was going to kiss him. Blaise realised it was, and before he could even think of struggling he felt cold hard pressure on his lips. It was moist and painful, and utterly disgusting.

He tried to pull away, but the thing wrenched his heart, and he opened his mouth to scream in pain finally only to have the thing's tongue slither into his mouth, down his throat and into his chest, as though the spirit was moving inside him. Repressing a shudder of disgust, horror and agony, Blaise felt tears come to his eyes instead.

His blood still felt as though it were shredding, his bones felt as though they were splintering. He clenched his hands around the grass and pulled it hard. Suddenly, the spirit lurched away, shaking. The hand in Blaise's chest jolted out as well, fingers slicing through his heart and stalling it a moment.

An upsurge of depressive emotions crawled up Blaise's throat, and he keeled over wailing and sobbing loudly. He didn't know why, but he just wanted to cry. He didn't care if people seen him or if they hated him for it. He didn't care about anything anymore. He just wanted to cry, the agony in his chest throbbing dully. The shadow faded, a gentle glowing light fisted in it's palm.

Footfall crunched through the crisp grass, and Blaise blearily looked up at the two people standing before him. A redheaded girl named Ginny and the best friend he'd chased away stood before him, looking horrified. Ginny cast a strange glance at the taller blonde male at her side before taking off; gone to find her brother she had said.

Draco was going to kneel beside him, but Blaise's sobbing and emotionally injured wailing started over again. The blonde looked lost, unsure what he should do. Something gripped the cloth of his arm.

**7**

I stared down at my best friend on his knees and bawling loudly. I was disgusted - it was pathetic for a man to be reduced to tears such as those without any reason at all. At least, I didn't think there was a reason. It sounded as though he'd simply lost his sanity and the will to live at the same time.

The pain in my chest wasn't hurting anymore, but it felt strangely empty. I wondered if it was what guilt felt like, until something grabbed my sleeve around my wrist. I glanced down, finding a slight flicker of translucent fingers. But the moment my eyes made sense of the shape it disappeared.

My eyes shot up, looking around for the presence. I felt a warm hand on my chest, as though it had melted through my clothes and was touching my skin directly. It continued to push against my skin, before I felt something else.

It was warm also, almost hot. It tingled and set off little jolts of numbness against my flesh. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and despite the pleasantness of this piece of magic being offered to me I had the urge to push it away. It didn't belong to me, whatever it was, and I can only assume the presence took it from Blaise, who was still cowering on his knees at my feet, tears streaming down his face.

I met his eye and the force pushed the ball of magic into my chest cavity and filling the emptiness. An inexplicable and unexplainable warmth filled me, slithering through me as ribbons twirl through air. I felt a desire, a yearning even, to leave the person before me. To go out and find more of this power that was buzzing through me and sending me on an amazing high only life-magic could give.

I wanted to _live. _

_

* * *

_

**TBC**

**A/N:** this was finished days ago but I forgot about posting it. I'm sorry XDD  
I have finally decided the entire plot for this story and it should be underway this year. I hope. Please don't let me give up on it or lose interest in it like all my other stories. I really like where this one is going - it feels like a completely original approach to the fandom, I think,  
DracoxHarry is love.

**~MK**


	4. A Bleeding Flame

**=The Hangman=**  
**Myurra-K**

It was just after potions class and I was dawdling with Hermione and Ron outside the classroom talking about something or rather when I found myself stood aside as _he _stormed ahead of me, exiting the potions classroom later than the rest having been called aside by Snape. His arms were swinging by his side in fists and his face twisted not into a superior sneer but an expression of deep anger and hatred. And for once, it wasn't directed to anyone in sight. His cloak billowed behind him, the ends kicking up In the air in a way only he could make look natural. His lengthy stride slowed down as he walked the edge off his frustration.

Ron grabbed my arm, trying to turn me away. Hermione was beside me, watching him too. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head, saying she was going to visit Ginny. I couldn't take my eyes off him, and Ron sighed when he realised we were walking in the same direction as he was.

Eventually, both our paces sped up to keep on the Slytherin's trail and we soon found ourselves following him rather than trying to get to our class. We were cut off moments later by Fred and George, who had transfigured their shoes into roller blades and each looped an arm through Ron's, dragging him off toward the Gryffindor common rooms, saying something about a new stock.

I ignored Ron's cries to come with him, and continued to follow Malfoy who was only just in my sights before I spotted him turning a corner. I approached the corner slowly, cautiously, a hand running along the wall as I approached as though I was cornering a wild animal.

With all things considered, I guess it was a pretty accurate analogy.

I peered around the corner and gaped silently. Draco as on the floor near the wall with his back to me, his head pressed to the edge of the alcove. His shoulders shook, one hand clutched around his stomach and the other running down his face before he clutched at the fabric over his chest. For a brief moment, I thought he was crying.

It was then I realised he was laughing. It would usually have come across to me as a beautiful sound, but today…today it wasn't just mirth I heard in his voice. It was insanity. Plain sadistic insanity.

I found out later that day from Hermione after she'd returned from visiting Ginny that Pansy had been found in the prefects' bathroom that morning, barely alive with slit wrists and that she was also in the infirmary recovering steadily.

* * *

**The Hangman**

**-Chapter IV-**

**A Bleeding Flame**

**1**

For days Draco flitted from class to class with a small smile on his face and a flickering light in his eyes. Several times when I looked I could have sworn his eyes literally flashed different colours of light; he was like a child, nothing entertained his interest for very long and the first time I seen him on the third day he was surrounded by about seven books and scrolls, scanning over the open pages of each one before turning them all, speed-reading each and every one at the same time.

But Hermione was the first one to point it out that his pupils were dilated as though he'd taken a muggle drug. He was always physically active, and the only time someone didn't know where he was, was when he decided he finally wanted to sleep during the early hours of the morning.

And during this time I noticed many things, particularly when the school was eating breakfast, lunch or dinner. Through all the years since second, my eyes often went to the Slytherin table due to the feeling that I needed to keep an eye on them, know their 'ins and outs' and make sure everything was in order; as of late my habit had not ceased in the slightest. But I knew all too well that something was wrong within the snake pit.

While Draco was insanely happy, Pansy was always following him though there was at least enough space of an arm's width left between them at all times. And Blaise was often absent, and when he did show up in the great hall he never ate. He pushed the food around and drank water but that was all. He was turning a dull colour despite his dark skin, his eyes had deep dark pockets beneath them, his skin hanging unattractively gaunt from his face.

There was only one thing I could think of to explain Blaise's attitude, so vastly opposite of Draco's own. Blaise was depressed; severely depressed.

And it almost disgusted me to think that Draco didn't care. But for some reason, I couldn't help but feel more for Draco's change of heart than I did for the dark skinned boy's awaiting fate. I was happy for Draco, my sympathy for Blaise was limited to whether or not I was in the mood for caring about something else.

Draco had started to calm down by the seventh day, and he had a strange look in his eyes whenever he turned his gaze to the two Slytherins either side of him. Blaise shrunk into himself almost entirely, not even caring to brush his hair or fix his robes properly. I was, honestly, surprised the dark skinned boy even bothered to leave the dorms.

I realised then that I wanted to know what was happening; it was, after all, in my nature to be curious if not suspicious.

**2**

It was now the evening of the eighth day, and Draco was on his own in the great hall. It was clear that his eyes weren't focused on the book in his lap, but his finger traced the words steadily and he licked his thumb before turning the page as he would if he were actually reading. As I approached, I could see his lips mouthing the words as he read them, though his gaze was on the enchanted ceiling instead.

I thought he was trying to curse it for a moment, until I moved to stand behind him and seen he was mouthing the words as his finger traced them. That was…a little weird, but in a good way. I couldn't help but feel envious of that uniquely helpful ability.

I was only slightly surprised that his shoulders relaxed when my hands moved to rest heavily against them. A drowsy murmured '_hm_?' passed from his closed lips, and he blinked, tilting his neck back and looking up at me from where he was seated.

"Malfoy, it's late. You look tired, you should probably get some sleep." I said, nudging his shoulders in an attempt to guide him to his feet, as useless as my attempt was. His eyes closed and he lent his head against my hard stomach, grumbling something unintelligible. I froze in shock for a moment, but before I could decide how to act he shot awake; realising who he was leaning against and started packing away his things.

"Harry? What time is it?" he asked me, not meeting my eyes and stifling a yawn. I shrugged off his previous odd behavior as drowsiness and helped him by his elbow to stand on his feet, knowing his legs would have been numb. He had been there since dinner after all.

"Nearly two in the morning." I admitted. It was the weekend, so we sixth, seventh and few eighth years like the Weasley twins were allowed free roam of the grounds for two days of the week. If we're within sight and clear lighting of the teachers and not hiding in suspiciously dark alcoves with a member of the opposite sex, we were allowed to do what we pleased.

"Wow, that's odd of me." he muttered to himself, and I realised with a start that he was staring at me with a strange look on his face; like a mix between determined and conflicted. I grinned reassuringly toward him, grabbing the sleeve of his cloak and dragging him out of the hall behind me, aware that several older students were watching us with barely acknowledged interest.

"So how did you do that?" I asked when we were walking through the halls. He looked at me oddly, and I sighed patiently, hoping he'd wake up soon so he could fully function once again. "You know, the whole reading while you're not looking thing? Not to mention, I seen you speed-reading several books at once a few days ago."

He quirked his lips to the side, flicking his fringe from his eyes nonchalantly. "I've always read like that." he said. I grinned.

"You lie." he hissed in disagreement at me, and in return I seethed an insult in parseltongue, withholding a smirk when his eye twitched. Why I was so amused and relaxed around Draco I'd never know, but I could barely contain the happiness and enthrallment as I walked beside him at a leisurely pace.

"How would you know how I read?" he asked, trying his best to avoid eye contact with me the entire time.

"I don't really, but in the six years I've known you I've never seen you read a book once, and then suddenly I see you reading seven at the same time; a bit odd don't you think?"

"You sure you're not a Slytherin?" he said to me under his breath, and I skilfully ignored the question waiting for an answer. He shook his head, 'not here, I'll explain some other time' he said with a note of ease in his voice.

Finally, he'd relaxed.

"Well I don't plan on going to sleep for a few more hours, care to keep me company?" I asked, lacing my fingers together behind my head and leering at him from the side. His lips turned up in a less-than-threatening sneer, and I couldn't help but feel it was a lax attempt at trying to retain his old personality.

I wasn't the only one who had noticed that this Draco was entirely different from the last one.

"Mudblood and Weasel no longer good enough for you, Harry?" the insult lost it's offense when he mumbled my given name at the end, the statement sounding more like one of jealousy or spite than of distaste.

"They wore one another out long ago, I've been walking around on my own for hours now." I admitted. An appalled look crossed his face at the sentence, and I found myself stumbling recklessly to correct it, unlacing my hands and flailing my arms comically. "No, not like that! I mean they've been studying for potions in the common room since dinner ended and they finally tired themselves out." I elaborated, letting my arms fall defeated to my sides. He chuckled, the sound sweet to my ears.

His tensed shoulders slumped suddenly, and I felt something grab my hand and thread between my fingers. I looked down, expecting to find Draco's hand grasping my own only to find I was grabbing air. Draco, too it seemed, had noticed and was staring down at my hand in bereft. Whatever it was that was holding my hand rubbed what I assumed was the pads of fingers into the back of my hand tenderly, and before I could say anything about it, Draco gestured for me to follow and walked off ahead. I was only a step behind him, however, as whatever it was had tugged me into step with him and continued to hold onto me.

We approached the exiting archway to the back field, small balls of light floated around in the air signified that this area was allowed for the senior students to access at this time of night, or morning rather. I sat down when Draco stopped walking, and I felt whatever it was wrap its arms around me from behind, crossed over my chest tightly. Draco sat beside me, biting his lower lip between his teeth; teasing it anxiously.

"It likes you." he said suddenly, and I felt the presence's hand leave my shoulder to brush my hair from around my cheek. "You're the only one it deliberately goes to like this." he admitted, laying back and tucking his hands behind his head. I huffed indignantly, and the presence left my side. I shivered with the cold, but as I went to grasp my upper arms to rub warmth back into my trembling flesh, I felt the hand closest to Draco caught again.

This time, however, the touch was firmer and warmer. It felt so much more real than that other thing. The electricity that burned through my body like internal static warmed me, and I found the slightly nipping chill in the air no longer bothered me. I turned my eyes toward Draco searchingly, only to have him blush and let go of my hand. I lay back beside him, raising a hand to the sky and pointing my finger into the air, tracing the path of a ball of light that moved steadily across the field above us. Draco watched my hand with interest, but stayed uncharacteristically silent.

His energy he'd had the past week had faded; and the same nonchalantly serious but carelessly careful Malfoy was back. His silver eyes were no longer filled to the brim by his dark dilated pupils, his lips were no longer quirked in mirth but set in a firm expressionless line.

In a way, I sort of missed it. But at the same time I was more comfortable with this original version of my old enemy. The blonde didn't miss my ease laying next to him, when a year prior I would have been itching to draw blood.

So when his fingers wrapped around my wrist, lowering my arm to the ground and tracing languid mindless patterns on the sensitive skin, I realised it as an expression of mutual trust between the two of us. I felt the presence buzz with raw satisfied energy at the simple touch exchanged between the two of us, but I couldn't figure out why.

My skin continued to tingle with warmth.

**3**

I spent most of saturday browsing the bookstore in Hogsmead, desperately trying to master the technique of speed-reading while strolling through the dusty shelves. I could tell the keeper of the store was getting frustrated with my being there for several hours without leaving, and only reading through the numerous books I'd picked up before putting each one back down again.

I was tempted to just sit down with each book piled around me and finish reading them, but I remembered that I wasn't inside a library and that, though interesting, the books didn't prove to be interesting enough to pay the price I was being charged for them.

Over the holidays, the price of everything from liquorice wands and sugar quills to broomsticks and substance-deflecting cauldrons went through the roof. And although I do have a rather large sum of money sitting in Gringotts without being withdrawn or sent anywhere, I also didn't have any actual income to keep it there either. So if I used it, it wasn't going back.

In fact, I'm almost certain that the only reason this shopkeeper hasn't pressed me to buy anything was because, aside from being Harry Potter himself, he knew that the prices weren't desirable and probably seen the same thing every other day from varied residents.

I was skimming over a book of folklores when I felt a warmth shiver up my spine at the smooth voice I was rapidly growing used to.

"Good to see you're trying to keep up, Potter." the blonde drawled, folding his arm and leaning against a shelf of books. The shelf rocked with instability and he pulled back before he knocked it over, choosing instead to stand with at least a metre between him and the rocky shelf. I could have laughed at the look of lowered ego that crossed his face, choosing instead to turn back to the book in my hands and becoming stuck within the written world once again. His brow raised at my absorbed expression. "How long have you been in here?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I'm not planning on buying anything, if that's what you're getting at." he chuckled at that, and then grabbed my wrist firmly tugging me behind him.

"Alright then. Seeing as I refused sleep to keep you company last night you can return the favour now." The shopkeeper turned an inquiring glance in our direction at the statement, and I hoped with everything I held dear that he didn't go to Rita Skeeter with that insinuating sentence. I felt Draco pause for a short moment before he snickered and continued. Without protest, I dropped the book on the top of the shelf and followed him out of the store.

"Alright, but where are we going first off?" I asked. He didn't answer, pulling me down the street. I chose to keep my eyes on his back, not wanting to know if anyone recognized the two of us and especially hoping that Hermione and Ron weren't anywhere near.

I noticed that his hand had softened around my wrist but still refused to let go. Perhaps there was a reason as to why he wished to keep contact with me; perhaps to appease this thing that was following him around. I was still stumped to figure out what it was, and I had made a half-effort to figure it out while I was browsing in the bookstore.

Limited interest equals limited progress.

We approached what looked to be an old Victorian-style house, only I could tell by the signs and decorations that it was clearly a shop, and the two front bay windows were filled with merchandise. It was, however, unlike any shop I'd ever seen. Walking inside, I couldn't help but feel as though I had walked into a shop of traditional witchcraft. Red powder lined the doorway, white circles with strange symbols marked the floor and walls, usually surrounding what I assumed were powerful or expensive artifacts. I started when I felt granules of salt crystals grind under my feet, and noticed I had walked straight into a circle.

I had felt the rush of power as I'd crossed the line, and I could only assume that this pagan's witchcraft was very real.

Nothing had prices on it, and I guessed that you needed knowledge of what you were going to buy before you even thought to purchase it, or that you should at least know enough about it's value to barter for it properly.

I cautiously approached a wire rack lined with cotton and wax dolls, all plain and unpainted or unfinished. Voodoo doll bases, I presumed. Shuddering at the thought of a Harry Potter voodoo doll, I continued down the line, staring at the phials of substances that appeared to be regular household ones as well as ones I was accustomed to. Meeki shells hung from the ceiling, Gytsy wings were hooked to an exposed wall bracket, and various plants that I could easily obtain from Neville with a worthy enough I-Owe-You were hung to dry over an iron rod.

"You don't mess with this magic, Harry." Draco said from behind me, moving in beside me to sort through the different ingredients. I snorted when he picked up a jar of ground lavender flowers and he cast me a serious look. "It's dangerous stuff, so don't mock it." he already had a bunch of items in his arms, and I checked to make sure he hadn't picked up any dolls.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I seen his arms were empty of any such thing. He must have caught on because he chuckled.

"But I guess you've already figured that, huh?" he said, eyes flicking to the wire rack of dolls before to me again.

"So why are you into this stuff?" I asked. He shrugged, measuring sprigs of some sort of flower against his thumb.

"Fell into it." he admitted, shuddering when I brushed past him to go back the other way.

"Was that how you ended up with this spell cast on you?" I asked, and he paused before shrugging but not denying it.

"It was an accident, but yeah." he said after a while. "And I'm trying to find a way to control it now." I picked up a heap of candles in one hand, playing with the twine that held them together before putting them back down. I heard Draco mutter an 'ah!' before he snatched the candles and put them on top of the pile. I shrugged, distracted by the sound of a finch in the store.

Following the sound, I came across the bird sitting on top of a perch made of willow branches nailed together in a shape that looked a mix between a 'K' and a 'Z'. It was orange and black in colour mostly, and ruffled when I came closer. The perch was surrounded by piles of leather-bound books with engravings into the covers. Old books, most of them with yellowed pages and moth-eaten ribbon page markers, carved images on the cover depicting the book's subject, pages mounted and bulky where sources and specimens had been stuck between crumpling pieces of coffee-tinted paper.

Draco eyed the books for a moment before stuffing the items in his shoulder bag I'd seen earlier as well as I hadn't even realised he'd been holding onto. I stared at him incredulously as he moved a pile of books to get to one near the bottom bound in deep green leather with a silver page marker that had a gold foil strip on the tip to weight it down. He glanced into the space in his bag before checking to see if he had pockets. Realising he wasn't wearing a bulky coat or had any pockets he passed it to me.

"Here, put this under your jacket." he said quietly. I continued to stare at him. "Don't worry, the shopkeeper isn't in and you wont get caught if I'm holding onto you." he said. I shook my head.

"I don't steal." I said firmly. To my surprise, he snorted loudly.

"Now whose the liar. You're just as Slytherin as I am and you know it. I'm technically allowed to take this stuff if I need it, which I do. It's the people who don't know what they're doing that she charges, mostly to cover herself from going to Azkaban early."

I hesitated before slipping it under my coat, holding it with my arm pressed firmly to it keep it against by side. He grabbed a pendant hanging from the wall, stared at it between his fingers for a moment before slipping it over his head and grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of the store.

The comfort of the strong magic yanked more so than melted away as we left the red-powdered doorway of the shop and onto the path leading toward the middle of the town. I was about to pull the book from under my arm when the blonde beside me stopped me.

"Don't, people don't appreciate my magic and seeing anything about it related to you wouldn't do any good." he warned. I nodded, not quite understanding but allowing his plea to appeal to me. We made our way toward a small café where the warmth of inside the store drew us in.

**4**

We chose a comfortable padded booth toward the back, taking seats opposite one another as we waited for our hot coco to be brought over to us. Malfoy dumped his back on top of the table, before holding his hand out for the book. I offered it out to him wordlessly, before I noticed a coil of beads attaching it to my wrist. I hadn't even noticed the silver, gold and jade coloured pearls that had lined the spine of the book and now it was coiled around me and not letting go.

Draco laughed, trying to pull the coil from my arm. When it didn't work, he snickered at me in amusement. "Guess you really are a Slytherin after all, Potter." he teased. I frowned, not liking how often he compared me to his own house but feeling flattered at the same time.

"How so." I snapped. He traced the string of beads with a finger gently, clearing them of dust and making them shine brightly in the light coming from the chandelier above us. He pulled the hand I held around the book out further, exposing the title.

It was Salazar Slytherin's personal spells diary.

"I've been looking for this for a long time. It appears you have Salazar's blood in you somehow, not unlike myself." I shook my head.

"Voldemort does. His powers transferred to me when I was a child, and that included some of his magical signature; that's the reason why my wand is the brother wand for his."

Draco just nodded then, as though it made sense rather than seemed shocking or wonderful. I respected him for it all the more. "That fits, and is a whole lot less weird that way." he admitted, and I couldn't help but emit an agreeing chuckle.

He moved from his seat, sliding in beside me and gently prying the front cover of the diary open. The beads stirred as though they were ready to lash out at him before slithering from my wrist slightly to bind his wrist alongside my own. He looked at me blankly before continuing.

"Why are the beads doing this?" I asked, cutting him off before he turned the page.

"Salazar charmed the book so that only those of his blood could read it. The beads would twine around someone of his blood, holding it securely and protectively so that not even trying to obliterate the diary could remove it. But if someone who isn't of his blood and isn't given direct permission to over-read the book, the beads are charmed to attack them."

I snickered at this and he cast me a glare.

"Beads can be a lot more painful than they look." he snapped. I held my free hand up in response.

"Hey, as long as they let go eventually I'm cool with it." he never replied, instead going back to opening the book. The first page was an image of Salazar drawn in ink; it moved just barely, though I'd guess it would be because of how long it would have been before anyone had seen it.

The waitress came up, depositing our drinks and leaving again. The entire time, I felt the beads stirring on my wrist as though ready to lash out at her, and Draco held the book closed with his finger between the cover and the picture of Salazar. His blank stare followed her until she was completely out of sight.

"So how did you know about it?" I asked. He hummed quietly, licking his thumb and turning the page.

"My father found it when he went to school. It was originally in the restricted section, but he'd managed to steal it being Salazar's blood and all. It was his rightful property. They cleared out the manor a few years ago before I got to read it; I had been too young to understand it then after all; and they dumped the books they discarded in some Pagan store. It was just luck you managed to help me find it. I wouldn't have seen it here if you didn't go over to the books after all." he admitted, meeting my eyes for the first time since last night just briefly before turning away again.

I made a sound of understanding as though it had taken ages to figure something out. "Oh, so if this thing gets us killed its my fault." I said, smiling when Draco merely nodded distractedly. I looked over his shoulder to read, but the spidery writing at such an angle merely looked like lines going all over the page so I figured I could wait.

Draco, however, was frowning deeply. I could see the colour in his face flushing in anger and his knuckles popped when he clenched his fist at his side, the other making indents in the paper. "Damned to Godric, this is bullshit." he hissed. I felt my brow raise, the blonde shoving the book in my direction. "Can you make sense of this?"

I sighed, looking down at the words. For a brief moment it didn't look like much, but then the words started coming together. I pulled the book closer, running my finger over an inked sketch of a stone dissected into cross sections. The writing on the page, however, made no sense at all in comparison.

"Year 34 the 34th, days no longer draw into night, but night into night again and again. Now I know why I could never care for anything before this. I was living a lie. Finally, I have a chance to step into my mother and father's shoes. Live the life I was born to live. I've been waving it all away with a wand like it was another conjuring charm. I have to keep going, train and practise harder. I have to be just like my parents, and use the magic inside me. I must become a student and acknowledge that I am one move behind those I follow. I will create a chamber, where only my magic and my blood will flow freely."

Draco stared at me blankly, seeming only then to make sense of why I had been able to read it. "It was in parseltongue." he stated obviously. "Would you teach me?" he asked, greed starting to swim in his eyes. I shuddered as his pupils dilated slightly; Draco was attracted to power and this was exactly the kind of power he thirsted for, lusted for.

I found myself giving in too easily.

"Alright, only if you teach me this magic of yours." I bargained. He hesitated at that, eyes reeling directly to me for a moment. Our eyes remained locked, and I watched on as the blonde's mercury eyes softened at the edges and his hand came up to my face. Draco's thumb brushed my lower lip just lightly before he looked down at the diary again, lowering his hand.

"Deal." he whispered, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

**5**

I felt myself jump in shock when Draco sat down beside me saturday evening at dinner. He sent a small coy smile in my questioning direction, before the plate before him filled with food. Hermione and Ron seated across from me sent a small look in my direction before greeting Malfoy and asking him how he was going. I knew it was a far cry from what they had wanted to ask him, but Draco was content to steer away from the subject of his two best friends and converse with the two in front of him about Quidditch.

Ginny, who's regular seat had been taken by Draco, bristled as she stood behind Seamus to my other side. She asked if he'd move up but he said there was nowhere to move to. I didn't feel sorry when I seen later that Ginny had gone to take a seat by Luna.

Draco's body thrummed happily with warm magic when he too noticed where Ginny had ended up sitting. It was odd, as Draco had nothing against Ginny as far as I knew; she'd even aimed to defend him against Blaise's harsh jab at the blonde a week ago. For some reason, though, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"So, you're really going to teach me?" he asked, meeting my gaze with an excited gleam swimming in them. For a moment I forgot what he had asked me, but I swallowed awkwardly and smiled back nervously. I was about to answer when I felt the thing's hand cover my own and squeeze gently.

Ginny was standing behind me with an expectant smile, her hip to the side and her fingers drumming impatiently on the small amount of skin that was showing from beneath her slipped shirt. It was only when I caught sight of just how sultry the look in her eyes were that I felt the nervousness fluttering in my stomach, the doubt.

That maybe, what Draco and I had wasn't right. That it wasn't allowed.

I was supposed to be with Ginny, feeling these things for her as she did for me. But here I was allowing Draco's gentle touches that I somehow know I'd secretly longed for. So secretly that even _I _hadn't known. I pulled away from the thing's grasp on my hand, standing abruptly. I hadn't even noticed how close Draco and I had been until my side was no longer touching his.

I instantly felt assaulted; not by the cold but by the look of loss on his face when he turned to me, and then the absolutely furious shimmer in his eyes when he seen Ginny loop her arm through mine.

I caught sight of Ron's expression, and it was one of total disapproving shock. I already knew he had no qualms about me being with his sister, so his reaction shocked me.

Did he think that Draco was a better choice? That maybe he would be the right path rather than the wrong?

I seen nothing in front of my eyes as Ginny dragged me from the great hall, chirping happily about the weekend and her own personal thoughts, hardly expecting me to talk in return. That alone was enough to insult me, and I restrained myself severely from ripping away from the girl.

A thought occurred to me as Ginny leant up to kiss my cheek, winking flirtatiously and tearing off down the hall, taunting and trying to provoke me into catching her in this game decided she wanted to play. If feeling these things for Draco was so wrong, then why did I condone whenever he touched me without a second thought, yet I almost reeled backwards whenever the redheaded flame, whom was calling for me now, touched me so?

I just hope Draco isn't mad with me for long. It never occurred to me that he may have actually been mad at Ginny instead.

**6**

Blaise watched blankly as Draco paced forewords and backwards in their dorm. The dark skinned male hadn't gone to dinner, but had been told by a tearful Pansy that Draco had ignored her for _him _again. The raven girl, as she always did, clung to him and cried over her problems for a while before trying to coax him to talk about his own.

She knew how depressed he was. That he hardly ate, that he slept for as long as he possibly could so he didn't have to wake up. She was often under the impression that Blaise was trying to pass away in his sleep because he couldn't even be bothered to take his own life.

Though it didn't appear to be so, Blaise knew that seeing him like this was severely hurting the girl. But still, her unrequited love or whatever it was she felt for Draco that wasn't returned would always come first.

And that was what hurt Blaise. He couldn't be more thankful when Draco broke into the locked dorm and kicked Pansy out before he started his angry trek around the room. The other male continued to watch with disinterested eyes for a while as he paced until he turned away finally. Blaise stared as the blonde began riffling through his things, obviously not finding what he was looking for before he threw a small object, possibly a rememberal, against the bedpost.

They both cringed at the sound of shattered glass.

The dark-skinned boy's interest perked for a bare moment as Draco pulled out his wand. He hissed a barely-there _serpensortia_ spell; a flash of red light before a snake shot out of the tip, coiling into itself on the floor. It's body was a glossy mix between grey and brown, black bands all up its body and a pale yellow belly. It's tail was all black, flicking around much in the way an annoyed cats would, it's head raised. It's tongue licked the air furiously at being summoned before it turned it's attention to Draco.

Draco extended a hand to it, allowing the snake to coil up his arm. "Boulengerina annulata. The banded water cobra. Rarely found away from water and extremely aggressive when provoked, but it's venom is extremely neurotoxic. Because it's not well studied, there is no anti venom to administer should it bite." he breathed, the snake finally looping itself over his shoulder and hissing at him. Draco smiled, holding it out for Blaise to see.

The dark-skinned boy barely blinked, but continued to stare at the strangely beautiful snake as it flared it's teeth at him, hissing before licking the air and calming. It didn't look like any cobra he'd ever seen, and the brownish colour on it's scales was more pronounced than he thought now that it was in better light.

Blaise noticed one thing and one thing only that he even cared to relay to Pansy later when she come in to say goodnight. Draco's eyes were dark, almost black, and the sound of his voice was huskier and deeper, and he had a slight accent. As though Draco wasn't Draco at all.

Of course, it was Pansy who noted that Draco wasn't in the dorms when she came to bid Blaise a good night's sleep.

**7**

Ginny hummed quietly to herself, rubbing her hands leisurely down her own arms to smooth the soap into her skin. Mountains of bubbles gleamed and glittered like stacks of round diamonds shimmying in the air as the candles around her flickered. She was in the prefects bathroom, bathing and waiting for Harry to join her.

When she'd urged him to try and catch her in the halls after dinner and he hadn't fallen for it, she'd gone up to see what was wrong, when he kissed her on the forehead and said nothing was wrong. She kissed him then, for the first time since their accident during the summer holidays.

She beamed with self satisfaction when she remembered how he'd lost himself at the touch of her lips and had kissed her back, albeit almost desperately before he pulled back. She caught sight of Draco approaching them and coaxed a gentle chaste kiss out of him in her own way of telling the Slytherin that they wanted alone time.

Or at least, she thought that was what they were going to have. Moments after she lost sight of Draco, Harry said that he had something he had to study for and that he could talk with her in an hour or two. She took that as a sign that she had a chance and had nodded enthusiastically.

The moment he'd left, she'd taken off for the prefects bathroom, preparing the lighting and talking to Moaning Myrtle for about an hour before she'd asked to be excused and wrote a quick letter to Harry. She'd sent an owl telling him that she requested him in the prefects bathrooms, as she'd found something that may interest him immensely but she didn't want anyone else to see it.

Of course, she never mentioned that herself naked was what she'd be showing him when he got there. The door opened and she turned around smiling until the last person she thought would show up did. Malfoy stood in the doorway, colour bleeding into his cheeks as he noticed who and what he'd walked in on.

"S'cuse me, miss" he stammered, closing the groaning doors behind himself. She grumbled to herself before sinking back against the edge of the bath. She heard something drop into the water and cautiously opened one eye, searching out the pastel pink coloured bottle of shampoo bobbing innocently beside her and sighing quietly, placing it back on the edge of the bath.

For a while she wondered how long it would take for Harry to get there, before fantasies started swelling in her head. In her mind, she imagined him walking in, before seeing her and being overcome with lust. He'd come over to her and lean down, pressing his lips to hers, stripping silently and slipping into the water beside her. The bubbles would stick to his hair and puff up between their chests as he'd move to press her breasts to his skin. Because he would never be able to get enough of her.

She sighed happily, swishing her hand around in the water. She felt her hand bump the cold slippery edge and allowed it to sink to the bottom, not registering that the edge was nowhere near where her hand had been. Her eyes still closed, she continued to play the fantasy behind her lids.

His cold smooth fingers would trail up her leg, slipping over her clean shaved skin before stopping over her thigh. She opened her eyes when she felt those cold imagined fingers constrict around her flesh slightly.

Ginny's heart stopped for a moment, before steadily increasing in speed before it was on the verge of racing itself from her arteries and jolting freely around in her ribcage. She knew she wasn't imagining the pressure around her thigh, uncomfortably close to her most private place. She briefly considered it being a prank from her brothers, or even Harry under his invisibility cloak.

The thought of it being Harry sneaking up on her made her pulse race pleasantly, but when she realised that what was around her leg was cold and not warming at all, and that it was wrapped right around her leg, she felt her stomach keen. She hoped that it was just a joke her brothers were playing on her, or even her friends. Maybe some Slytherin thought it would be funny to cast a charm on her to scare her while she was in the bath in hopes of seeing the girl run screaming down the hall completely naked.

But no matter how rational these explanations were, she moaned quietly at the feeling of whatever it was tightening around her leg, brushing a sensitive part of her flesh in the process. Using both her hands, she parted the stacks of crystalline bubbles, focussing on what was around her naked leg.

She opened her mouth to scream at what was around her leg, but found something invisible around her mouth was stopping her from making a sound. She could almost hear a placating voice whispering in her ear to calm down. She stopped struggling with her arms to free her mouth after finding that there wasn't really anything forcing her to stop screaming, only to hold her shaky hands out in front of her, hovering just above the water's surface.

The snake nudged further up her thigh and she yanked her knee upright, using both hands to try and pry it off. The snake, aggravated, latched it's teeth into the flesh of her thigh. She tried to scream in pain, only to find once again that she was unable to make a sound.

Blood was clouding the water as she pulled the snake's head from her thigh. It slipped from her grasp, swimming foreword and biting the soft flesh of her pale thigh once again, this time however, she could feel it's teeth as though it were chewing her, the foreign toxins pumped in her bloodstream had no effect for all of a few moments.

Without warning, Ginny Weasley's back arched against the edge of the bath, her arms and legs convulsing as the venom attacked her nerves. Still struggling and shaking, the redhead knocked bloodied water over the sides of the tub, extinguishing candles and drenching the floor. It was obvious that something other than the snake was attacking her at that moment, as she felt as though she were pinned to the wall of the tub.

Ginny could feel her blood pumping through her whole body, her heart thrumming in panic only moving the venom faster. She tried to thrash against the force keeping her from screaming, but her head cracked against the edge of the bathtub, knocking her unconscious.

The snake, realising she had stopped struggling, released her and, after taking a small cautious look back, moved away from her dying body.

**8**

I approached the prefects bathroom where Ginny had asked me to meet her. I had a bad feeling about what it was that she wanted to show me, but I could only assume that it was something sexual. The fluttering in my stomach was the complete opposite of pleasant, but rather a feeling of dread was threading itself through each beat of my rapid paced heart.

I was about to open the door when I noticed something. Footprints, made from red-tinted water, trailed from the door and down the corridor I'd just approached from - they were leading away from the bathroom. I opened the doors, and at first nothing clicked in my mind as to what I seen.

And then I screamed; loud enough that I'm certain any prefects and teachers patrolling the floor would have heard and would come see, as would any students who were yet to go to the common rooms or were passing by.

Her arms were splayed out either side of the bathtub before me, her head tilted back far enough over the edge that I was staring at her upside-down face. Behind her head, a white washcloth was rest, but I could see that it was a deep red liquid that was steadily leeching through it. Her curtain of blood-red hair touched the ground, and from the ends it almost appeared as though her hair turned to liquid, running along the floor before fading to a more transparent shade of red.

Her eyes were closed, and I could have mistaken her for sleeping had it not been for the smudge of blood on her cheek or the water that dripped from her face. I was too scared to take another step for the moment, until I realised that I was standing in a large puddle of blood-stained water.

As I stepped foreword, a part of me felt as though I were intruding on her, that it was indecent of me to be the one to check and see if she were alive, as though in a way it were my fault, or that I shouldn't because of her naked exposure which she'd meant for me to see.

"Ginny?" I asked, tentatively. Two teachers appeared behind me then; one I couldn't bother to put a name to and McGonagall. The two women moved in front of me, Minerva pushing me away as she approached the lifeless girl.

It wasn't until Snape appeared behind me and demanded to know what had happened. Minerva ignored his statement and made one of her own.

"She's alive." she croaked, and the relief I had expected to feel never came, but rather the relief I seemed to already be harbouring without my own knowledge left me entirely.

Had I _wanted_ Ginny dead?

Snape's eyes were on me, narrowed in suspicion before he grabbed my shoulder harshly and moved me out of the way as Minerva and the unnamed professor removed Ginny from the thick red water and wrapped her in a towel. I could clearly see the blood leaking through the towel around the area of her thighs and for a moment I thought she may have been brutally raped.

"What happened." he demanded again, but the statement was directed to Minerva rather than all three of us conscious. I heard in his voice how tense his throat was when he noticed where the blood was coming from, and it was obvious he was thinking the same thing as myself. To my greatest surprise, Minerva cast the both of us the ugliest, most terrifying glare she'd ever be capable of mustering in her life.

It was as though she suspected it was one of us who had done this to her. I surprised and disgusted myself when, even now, I felt nothing inside me for the girl in McGonagall's arms. No remorse, sympathy or empathy, no guilt…

…nothing

The unnamed professor replied, her eyes also staring at us in a hardened, emotionless gaze. Her words shocked me for a moment.

"She's been bitten." I felt myself jolt at the words, and I was aware of all three professors staring at me. McGonagall moved away from us, her regular hurried pace undeterred by the weight in her arms as she rushed Ginny to the Infirmary for treatment.

"Student?" Snape asked, and I could still feel his eyes on me. The young professor wiped bloodied hands on her overcoat as she shook her head.

"Serpent." she replied, sending me a calculative stare. Snape's hand tightened considerably on my shoulder.

* * *

**A/N: **does anyone feel like another situation equal to '_chamber of secrets_' coming on, where Harry's always in the wrong place at the wrong time and because he can talk to snakes he's under suspicion of being the bad guy? Yes, speaking Parseltongue can really get you into some deep trouble, Harry Potter.

Too bad Draco doesn't have a clue about what's been happening to the people around him, and is totally oblivious that Harry's being blamed for everything he's doing.

This is the rather boring update, hopefully next chapter will have a bit more in it on the subject of Draco. Now that Ginny's been put in the hospital Blaise and Myrtle are the only ones who can give any semblance of help to Harry. But Myrtle is someone no one would consider asking for help, and Blaise is obviously not in a talkative mood now that Draco stole his will to live.

Anyway, another two DracoHarry stories _'Black Diamonds'_ and _'Tarnished'_ will be posted in the next couple of days. And I'm starting another one inspired from the story of Pocahontas for Draco and Harry called '_Savages_'.

**Wish me luck on the trial HSC exams and take care,**  
**MK**


	5. To Catch and Kill a Snake

**=The Hangman=**  
**Myurra-K**

It had been days since we found him hunched into himself in the Forbidden forest that night, a blade in his hands and deep red seeping from his ribs. The entire time we'd been standing around him in his private room he frequented in the hospital wing we'd silently wondered whether it was a self-inflicted attack or if it were someone else who had hurt him. If I knew Draco the way I thought I did, then I dreaded the answer.

He had awakened last night, and he had refused to let anyone else near him, screaming at them not to touch him. I could tell he was keeping a tight grasp on the specter. It was noisy sometimes, knocking over the potions kept on his bedside in attempts to get to me.

Finally, after all this time, I noticed he had calmed down significantly and, taking a chance, I sat down beside him. My thumb moved to lightly trace over his white knuckles, and he cast a wary but tired look at me. It seemed as though he seen right through me; he wasn't showing any signs of recognizing me at all.

"Draco, can you hear me?" I asked.

He looked away then, and I pressed my thumb to his skin slightly more, rolling it in a circle around his knuckle to gain his attention. His eyes flicked to me, white-gold hair falling over his brow as a small smile twitched at his lips before disappearing. He heard me.

"Draco," I started, but he cut me off.

"Y-yes." he croaked, appearing pained. I sighed gently when he let a small affectionate smile come to his face finally, lighting him up beautifully. It was times like this that I could almost swear that he had Veela blood in his veins, but I'll never be sure unless I get the courage to ask. The corners of his eyes creased, and his hand came up to rest on my cheek.

"Harry, we don't have time for this." that was Ron; he was anxious and I could understand why.

But right now, I felt myself growing lost in the familiar scorching warmth of Draco's molten-led eyes. It was a happy fluttery feeling in my gut, like the kind you get when you realise you're about to get your very first kiss. It's a good kind of nervous, but nervous none the less. I could tell he was still struggling to keep the specter away from me.

"I'm sorry." he said suddenly, and I felt myself jump against his warm, slightly damp palm. I could see then that, although his face smiled up at me, his eyes were deeply dug pits of grief and guilt. "I wont ever do it again, I promise I wont." he said, suddenly moving his hand from my face to the sleeve of my shirt, pulling me down to bury his face against my collar bone.

I realised then that my fear had been confirmed; Draco had driven the blade through his own ribs and then removed it not in an attempt to save his life but in an attempt to bleed to death faster.

I smiled gently down at him, realising that although his cheek was flushed it was as cold as death against my chest. I guided him away from my gently, "I need to ask you something." he sat straight then, though I could tell his body had reminded him of the knife-wound on the way. I held my breath as he maneuvered himself to a comfortable but completely independent position.

"Harry." Ron prompted again. I took a deep breath, meeting Draco's eyes.

"Where is Ginny."

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say to him.

His eyes darkened, though one significantly more than the other. Shadows seeped from the corners where the walls met the ceiling, spidering out and sending the room into a twist of crackling stagnant anger and fury. His fists enclosed around my collar, dragging me so close I could feel his cold unsteady breath across my face. When he finally spoke, it was with two voices at once, both deep and crackling with offence.

"You will not go back to that whore! I wont let you!" he shouted, despite three of the people in the room behind me being brothers to the girl. As suddenly as this change in Draco's touchy personality, I felt the room shift as it suddenly became light again. The white-gold head of hair hung low, and though his grip on my collar didn't ease in intensity, I could feel half of the force leave him almost instantly. His shoulders sagged and his shoulders shook with dry sobs; though I couldn't see his face I knew his distraught expression off by heart.

I wanted to reach out and embrace him, but his hands were still tightly threaded into the collar of my shirt. I could have anyway, but some part in my mind that sounded suspiciously like Dumbledore told me it was the wrong thing to do that moment.

When he looked up again, his eyes were the same light feathery silver I was used to, though they were red-rimmed; bloodshot from crying invisible tears. His face was as dry as if he hadn't cried at all, though his eyes glistened with moisture that refused to run down his face. He was stronger than I gave him credit for, but only because he had to be.

"Not again. I wont survive it again." he whispered. No one in the room said another word about Ginny.

* * *

**The Hangman  
-Chapter Five-  
Catch And Kill A Snake**

**1**

It was the next morning when I felt Snape's hand wrap around my collar, dragging me up from my seat at the Slytherin table just moments after I had sat down. I wasn't hungry anyway, but I was feeling a strange sensation of loss. I refused to meet Harry's eyes as my godfather dragged me out of the entrance doors, absent minded of the entirety of the grand hall watching us.

We made a turn down a corridor to the left, and I decided that I could walk for myself from here but when I tried to pull away, Snape refused to let me go. It was odd, considering there was no one else in sight. I could only guess that I had done something wrong to be escorted elsewhere in such a fashion.

"What's going on, Sev?" I asked. His only reply was to let me go and shove me in the shoulder until my back hit the nearest wall. His eyes were glowering down.

"Ginny Weasley is in the hospital wing." he said pointedly. I looked up at him and seen, his eyes were staring accusingly at me.

"Well the last time I seen the blood traitor was at dinner last night. I must have gone to sleep in the dorms straight after that because I don't really remember seeing anyone else after Blaise sitting on his bed." I said, irritated at how bemused I sounded. There was a large gap of blackness in my memory where I could find nothing, no matter how hard I buried myself into the void.

"Funny, because I recall seeing you walking around the fifth floor about twenty minutes prior to the girl being found in the prefects bathroom, on that same floor I may add." I frowned in confusion at my godfather. I gave a resigned sigh, rubbing both hands furiously against my suddenly aching temples.

"Stop confusing me. That couldn't have happened, I had to have fallen asleep. I remember sitting nest to Potter at dinner and he and the Weaselette leaving. I talked to Seamus about something or rather concerning our Care of Magical Creatures homework before leaving myself. After that I," I paused, remembering that I had, indeed, seen Harry and Ginny kissing in the hall. I decided it was best to leave that out. "…I didn't see anyone aside from Pans and Blaise. I must have fallen asleep straight away in the dorms, because I don't recall showering and I still had yesterdays' clothes on when I woke up this morning." I said.

Severus moved to the wall beside me, arms folded as he leant back against the stone, ignoring it's grating feeling against robes. He didn't look like he believed a word I had said after my hesitation. I pulled the last card I knew how in order to get him talking again.

"And anyway, what has it to do with me?" I said, giving him a challenging stare which he returned. I felt my eye twitch in surprise when he replied with a sudden loud anger I hadn't heard from him in a while.

"She was attacked by a student who set a deadly snake on her. It's a miracle that girl is even alive. Automatically, every student in Slytherin is suspected, plus any other that has a snake as a pet and Potter, who screamed for all he was worth when he had found her." I realised then, with his drawl, that it was hard to tell when my godfather was trying to be funny or if he was being completely serious. If he were to lighten up his ever-morbid mood slightly, I was quite aware how great of a person he would be to spend time with.

"It could have just been one that came inside to escape the weather." I reasoned.

"It was not a native snake, nor one that would make either a legal or compatible companion to any witch or wizard. It was a summoned serpent, there is no doubt about that. I'll give you one guess as to why it is, exactly, that you are now the first name that comes to mind in the list of possible perpetrators." he seethed.

I felt my eyes widen. "But I never…it wasn't, it couldn't….you know I'd-"

"What I know does not matter. I told you, you foolish boy, not to use the _serpensortia_ spell where people can see. Now everyone is going to think it was you who sent that snake after the girl, among other things. Now Dumbledore wants to cross-examine you, since I refused to let him interrogate you using veritaserum. So you better have a plan boy, and that plan had better work quickly." he hissed, stepping back away from me. I didn't dare look up at him. "In the name of Salazar, you've damned us."

By 'us', I knew he meant our family.

I barely even noticed when my godfather wrapped his arms around me in a stiff embrace, transferring his strength to me in the only way he could. I barely even realised where we were heading as he directed me toward Dumbledore's office and sent me through the gargoyle guarded entrance. I barely even cared when one of the licorice things the headmaster offered me bit my finger as I went to take it, blood beading in several evenly spaced holes along my forefinger.

I did, however, notice that the aged man laughed at my expense, saying he'd warned me they were sharp.

**2**

Her arms were wrapped tightly around one of his, digging his elbow into the space between her breasts, her eyes closed and her fingers viciously digging into his flesh as she tried with all her strength to pull him back. Harry did his best to pull away, but it was useless. Ron tried to pull Hermione off the raven teen, but she screamed at him to get back and not to touch her.

"Let go, Hermione please! Not now!" Harry pleaded, doing his best to pull away. Ron took a step back and leaned casually against the lounge, glancing at Dean and Thomas who watched with raised brows and impressed looks on their faces; Harry had managed to avoid being yelled at for nearly a whole two weeks. That was a record in itself ever since she'd hit her menstruation cycle two years ago.

Ron tried to coax Hermione to let go of Harry, who was looking as though he wasn't sure whether to be irritated or perplexed with the girl hanging onto him. She snapped at him again and he stepped back again, as routine always went.

"Look, I don't have time for this. I have to find Draco." he growled finally, yanking away from her. She let him go, turning her body sideways with a fist at her side ready to belt him one if she needed to.

"Draco? _Draco_! You don't need to find Draco, you need to go see Ginny! That girl is almost dead in the hospital wing and all you want is to go find Malfoy? That girl loves you, Harry!" she screamed, whacking the back of her hand against his chest in a gesture.

"And I _don't _love _her_. I've tried to be nice, I've tried letting her down gently. I don't see her that way, Hermione. I cant make myself love a girl just because you tell me to! I feel guilty enough as it is without you layering it on as thick as you are!"

Ron knew where this was going, he'd always known. He had known Harry wasn't interested in his sister since he'd seen them kiss during the summer holidays; Harry went pasty white and looked as though he'd just murdered someone. At first, Ron had thought it was guilt that Harry was feeling, until he looked a bit closer the next day after they received the letter telling them Malfoy was in the school infirmary.

He seemed to be the only one in his house aside from Fred, however, that noticed what was happening between the two of them. Harry was quieter since Draco had almost died, morbid and cynical at times as well, as though the world was just going down the drain and he couldn't find the plug. There were times when he was immensely happy, and they were only ever when he was with Draco or occasionally when he was on his own and he thought no one was looking, when his thoughts were obviously on the silver-haired Slytherin and nothing else.

Ron, personally, didn't care that his best friend preferred other males to have a relationship. Two of his brothers, Fred and Charlie, were the same. Fred had never heard the end of it from George when he came out to the family, and Charlie preferred men as well, although he still liked women it was still the same thing in a way. He was fine on both occasions; just because it had made a jump from his brothers to his best friend didn't matter to him, and although he was a bit queasy about it being Malfoy of all people he realised that he would be more comfortable with that than the thought of his best friend shagging his little sister.

Unfortunately, trying to tell Ginny that Harry wasn't interested only ended with one of Fred and George's nasty sherbets being tipped into his morning pumpkin juice. He'd walked around with ingrown toenails for five whole days before the bloody spell wore of finally, and he wasn't in a hurry to repeat the scenario. He knew that, at least this once, Harry was on his own in trying to convey this to his little sister.

His attention was caught when he heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the familiar ringing of someone having been slapped was hanging heavily in the air. Looking up at his friends, he was even more shocked at what he seen.

Hermione's hand was to her cheek, her eyes watered. Harry was glaring ferociously at her, his hand trembling in the air beside her head as he lowered it stiffly to her side.

Harry just struck Hermione? What on earth had he missed that had been so bad that he'd struck the girl, he'd never done that before in his entire life.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ say that to me again. Never again, do you hear me?" he seethed loudly, not caring that the entire room was stagnant in shock and staring more intently than ever before. She took a step back, tears still hanging in her eyes but refusing to free themselves. "I'm not sorry. You've hit me before when I deserved it and I have a feeling it was about time you learnt the lesson yourself. I'll never lay a hand on you again in such a matter, Hermione. But next time you go to say something as _stupid _as that, you will remember this day."

He turned his back on her then, arms crossing is chest and hands grabbing opposite upper arms, rubbing roughly as though it were entirely too cold inside the common room. Ron knew that posture all too well, it was as though Harry were trying to peel away what he had just done, as though he could believe it about as much as the rest of them.

"Harry, mate. Maybe you should sit down." Ron said, but as his hand came up and was about to rest on his best friend's shoulder, he felt something cold and invisible in his way, as though he'd just erected a barrier that dissected himself from them; his own way of coping. Whether or no that was the case, Ron knew his friend shouldn't be touched.

He spoke suddenly, then. His voice cracked as he spoke, showing he was, indeed, upset about what he had done. "You want to know why she was even in the bathroom in the first place, Mione?" his voice was quiet, though he knew most people in the room were straining to listen. "_She_ had sent _me_ an owl to meet _her _there, saying she wanted to show me something. She wanted to have _sex _with me, Hermione. And I couldn't do that, because I didn't love her. Now, do you still think I don't respect women?"

His voice, cold and angry, sent a shiver running down Ron's spine. He felt himself pale; Hermione would never accuse Harry of that, would she?

No one objected when Harry left the common room, and no one went over to Hermione when she moved around the lounge and fell into it's warn-down soft cushions, except for Ron. He moved to stand just beside her, watching a tear roll down her cheek before he spoke.

"Did you really say that to 'im Moine?" he asked. When she looked away he sighed and sat down beside her, rubbing soft comforting circles over her back. She stared at the fire, the shadows flickering over her face and the light catching the trails of tears down her smooth cheeks. They sat in silence for a while until she spoke for the first time since Harry had slapped her.

"Did I really deserve it?" she asked, rubbing the tips of her fingers over her skin and tracing the outline of where the bruise would mark her face. Ron made a sound between a sigh and a cough, stretching his arms over his head and leaning back against the lounge.

"Well, you can get carried away sometimes, girl. Us two, we're only human, and male humans at that. We can't hack it when you tear away at us like that all the time. And believe me, there are times when I just wanna…" he trailed off, making a series of slapping and backhanding motions in the air with one hand while the other held a non-existent choker hold on a collar. He kicked his legs up, still fighting the non-existent person before making a fist with the slapping hand and splitting it through the air as though knocking someone on the head.

Hermione's tinkering laugh cut through her tears and a widely amused grin slid over her lips. Ron joined her, and soon enough both were laughing hysterically at the thought of Ron doing that to Hermione one day. Ron calmed first, watching Hermione evening her own breaths with a small smile on his face, glad the brunette found humour in what was now an understandable situation.

She rest her head on his shoulder, curling up along his side and toying with the hem of his shirt between both her hands. Ron's arm moved around her waist, inhaling sharply whenever the girl's warm hand brushed his stomach.

Harry would come back later that afternoon to find them in that exact same spot.

**3**

His hands were shaking. They were shaking and they weren't stopping. Every time he raised them to eye-level to stare at them he would drop them quickly as though they were stained with blood.

He couldn't believe he had hit her. What was he hoping to prove, if anything all it did was prove her assumptions correct; that he had no respect for women. At this thought, however, his blood would fire and he would think about the way she went about saying it.

He couldn't love Ginny that way, he'd tried to but he just couldn't. Kissing her that time during the summer had felt wrong, been wrong. It felt as though he were betraying someone, and he didn't mean Ron. When he kissed her, it wasn't right, it didn't fit. And the next day, when he received a message saying Draco was injured critically during a battle, something inside him just clicked.

From then on he'd been a muddle of the old Harry and something else. He was silent in thought whenever he wasn't at Draco's side, and staring listlessly at the unmoving and emotionless sleeping face of the other when he was. He was only granted ten minutes at a time to be with the other teen when he'd been unconscious, but that was only because he had classes and Hermione was the only one granted permission to be with Draco constantly until he woke up.

And after Malfoy had gained consciousness, his thoughts were consumed by everything the other said or did, and his quiet moments were guarded by the presence that always followed Draco or himself around. For some reason, just thinking about something other than Draco felt strange to him.

He was on his way to Dumbledore's office to turn himself in for striking a witch and female peer as well as a housemate. He figured that maybe the consequences would be a little less severe this way, and word wouldn't get around as quickly that he'd lashed out at his female best friend in such a way in front of others.

He came to the gargoyle finally, fumbling over the password under his breath a few times before finally spitting out the words 'Pepper Pops' as though the name tasted as foul as the lollies themselves. It shifted and gave way.

He sidled into the office, but instead of his eyes being drawn to the phoenix or to the old wizard at his desk, he found his attention caught by something completely different. He was caught between emotions as his eyes traced the shape of the back of a white-gold head of hair just barely exceeding the back of the chair.

The scenario came across as extremely familiar, and he remembered the time he'd walked in on the exact same thing only for the person to stand and turn to him, the face of Lucius Malfoy leering down at him in contempt.

Only this time, the person stood in a manner of graceful clumsiness which only he could have achieved. His eyes were alight when they met Harry's, and a faint warm smile crossed his lips and twitched the corner of his mouth before a scowl set in place. Dumbledore chuckled.

"No need for appearances, Mister Malfoy. I do believe that Harry has something of yours he wishes to give back." the man said, his age wrinkled face crinkling further as he smiled. Harry glanced over at the man, catching the flicker of a wink from him. "Meanwhile, I have some business with Pomfrey. I will be back in a few minutes, feel free to help yourself to the licorice. I warn you both, it's as sharp as ever." he chuckled as Draco's finger absently traced the circle of puncture marks on his finger. Harry caught the movement and chuckled as well.

Draco let out a small startled gasp when, as soon as the doors to Dumbledore's office closed behind him, he was pulled into a tight embrace against Harry's chest. Unlike when he was in his godfather's arms, stiff and absent, he returned the gesture this time by moving his arms up around Harry's back. He felt the heat surging into his skin, and his shoulders felt lighter. That odd feeling that was sunk in his stomach of needing something disappeared, and he smiled. Harry could feel the change in Draco's previously tense body as the presence shifted back inside it's origin.

"It's been on my tail since yesterday, actually. I seen you at breakfast, you looked awful. I personally think Snape should have left you where you were, but I knew I had to get whatever this thing is back to you." Harry admitted. He almost smiled when Draco's arms tightened around him slightly.

"Thankyou, it feels much better."

They didn't speak again until Dumbledore came back and they reluctantly let go of one another.

**4**

I fiddled with the cord of hemp that hung from a bracelet around my wrist. The headmaster was looking between us both with a grin twitching at his lips. I felt my body tick out of compulsion and I turned my gaze to the phoenix that was peering at me with curiosity. It wasn't as though I hadn't seen the thing before, it was just that I never got a chance to admire it this way before.

Harry shifted beside me, clearing his throat.

"Sir I have something I should tell you." he said, his voice hoarse. Dumbledore's eyes glinted and he waved the comment away.

"I already know. I highly doubt she holds it against you Harry. You'll see." he says. I glanced between the two of them.

"Alright, hold on a minute. What am I missing?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Harry. The raven teen looked away from me, his green eyes flickering around the room and his teeth worrying his lower lip. I waited patiently for the answer, which I eventually got.

"I sorta kinda didn't mean to but did it anyway because I did mean to strike Hermione." he rambled. I gave him a blunt look.

"I don't speak whatever language that was. Can you speak plain English please."

"I slapped Hermione…pretty hard." he said, an acquiescent shrug following what he said. I sighed, shaking my head.

"Stupid girl probably said something. Whatever your reason it would have been justified at least. Besides, you and I both know that girl can hit back just as if not twice as hard." I reasoned. He gave me a look before turning his eyes to Dumbledore who nodded.

"There is rules against violence, but in cases like these, even between conflicting members of the opposite gender such as your own situation, all the staff are recommended to ignore it. Out in the world, there will be no teachers to tell you when or when not it is or isn't right, you have to learn on your own with experiences such as these. I can tell from the look in your eyes that, even though you regret hurting her you aren't so sorry that you would take it back. But I also know you wouldn't do it again. You are not a violent person, Harry. Hermione needs to learn her place in the world just like many others, and in the end you may have done her a favour."

"She does run off her mouth a bit. I bet she'd have a go at a troll over it's indecency of not showering if given the chance." Draco said absently. Harry shook his head and ignored the blonde, but he didn't miss the look of amusement that crossed Dumbledores features when he realised that Draco was joking.

"Draco does have a point." the headmaster said finally.

"I do?" he asked, confounded. Once again, his commentary went ignored by Harry as he listened to the headmaster.

"Everyone learns valuable lessons in their lives, truths one may call them, and whether you believe it or not Hermione may have received one today. A brutal truth, but a truth none the less. Sometimes they are delivered in very brusque and ineloquent ways, and sometimes by a friend. The best way to deal with them is to simply try and understand them. And if I'm not mistaken, Miss Granger is a very smart young woman. I believe that she will have no choice but to realise the err she made today, that sometimes friends should be regarded with a little more respect than a misbehaving animal, and that she isn't so different from everyone else as she may believe."

Draco frowned, looking down at the hands folded on his lap. The words weren't meant for him, but he took them in like a sponge and refused to wring out to be rid of it. He wasn't sure why, but what the old professor had said hit home; like when you know you've forgotten something and vaguely know what it is as though it would come to you any moment, but it never does.

"We had best be going, Professor." Harry said then, grabbing the cuff of my shirt and dragging me to my feet with ease. I was about to protest out of habit, but Harry gave a light inclination of his head to the headmaster in a small bow and continued to drag me to the door. "We have a bit of catching up to do, sir. Please excuse us."

"Just a moment." Dumbledore said, a smile on his lips. His glasses caught the light when he looked up at the ceiling before turning back to us. "I would like to see you both after dinner. I have some…_personal _questions regarding each of you separately. You can both be present or I will see one at a time, it is your choice." the headmaster stated.

"We'll be here." I said, noticing that Harry hadn't stopped dragging me out of the room. I was suddenly aware of a hot itching sensation travelling up my spine and down the arm Harry had seized. My fingers twitched, and when I tried to turn my eyes away from him I couldn't.

Every movement he made, every shape of light or dark that crossed his face, accentuated each feature separately but blended together with the intensity. As the door closed behind us and Harry turned to me, his eyes were smoldering with something I couldn't explain. But I was drawn to it.

I stopped moving, pulling him back with our joint arms. He didn't look surprised when I grabbed his shoulders and moved rather than guided him back to me, turning us back around and pressing him hastily into the darkness of the alcove beside the door.

I couldn't help my heavy breathing, or my slight trembling. Harry met my eyes and held them there, a hand coming up to trace the outline of light on my jaw from the oddly angled lighting. I tensed at his touch, for a brief moment a sense of regret washed over me and I wasn't as sure of myself as I had been before.

And then there it was, compelling me to touch Harry. It wanted the raven closer, it wanted me to make him closer. And it took a moment to lose grip of whether it was me or something else that was feeling these things. Harry, however, was more sure of himself than me.

He pressed his lips to the nape of my neck, and for a moment the sensation felt far away. As it melted warmth into my slightly cold skin, coiling under my flesh and sending shivers along my arms. My hands, against the wall, curled into fists at the sensations. For one simple gesture, it was too much. I never felt like that.

"Harry…" I gasped, turning away and unconsciously arching my neck to give the other more room. "…not here, at least." I managed moments later after he started brushing his lips along my neck further.

As though I had stung him, he jolted back. He seemed to remember we were just outside the headmaster's office, and looked away from me flushing brightly. "I'm sorry, Draco…I couldn't…I couldn't stop myself." I felt something twinge at his words, and I wasn't sure why but it hurt a little.

We leg go of each other and moved from the alcove and into the empty hall. I ran a hand briskly through my hair, uncaring at how it kicked up at the ends. I no longer cared for keeping my hair in perfect order, it was alluring either way and I knew it. Harry however held his arms before himself, crossed at the wrists and turned back so his fingers threaded, looking like an incredibly off balanced figure-eight. His knuckles were white, however, and the grip the boy's bony fingers had around one another looked quite painful.

"So…" I said, squinting down the incredibly long hall when I heard a small noise before continuing. "You said you couldn't stop yourself?" I considered making a joke but I found it rather inappropriate at this time and place. However, if Harry was giving any attention to my voice he wasn't showing it.

I found my question went unanswered, as did any attempt to make conversation. It was obvious Harry was totally oblivious to my presence for the moment. Feeling disheartened at being ignored, I slipped from his side as we passed the library.

I was disappointed, but not surprised, when he didn't notice.

**5**

It wasn't until hours later when Harry found himself at the Gryffindor common room that he realised he must have totally ignored Malfoy. An inexplicable sharpness pierced his stomach, and he could barely hold his breakfast down, as it was lodged halfway in his throat begging to be released. He ignored it as best as he could, entering the common room and instantly setting his sights on the sleeping Hermione and Ron.

He smiled to himself, moving and kneeling before his two friends. The two of them stirred, and he shook them awake with a single hand. He caught sight of the bruise on Hermione's cheek when she lifted her head from Ron's shoulder, and ignored the twinge of guilt for her sake.

She smiled, stretching her arms up over her head. The lack of warmth woke Ron up completely as well, and he gave an irritated grunt and shifted in his seat, yawning and not bothering to cover his mouth.

"Harry," Hermione said, slightly put off but still sounding happy nonetheless.

"Hey, it's about ten minutes till supper. Thought I should wake you both, though I admit the photos that Seamus got of Ron drooling on your head, Hermione, were some of the best one's he's got of you two." Harry grinned.

Hermione and Ron both turned red, Hermione edging away from Ron and rubbing the top of her head. Ron muttered a threat at Seamus, moving to stand up. It wasn't until he rolled his sleeves over his elbow and mentioned the word 'kill' that Harry burst out laughing.

"I was kidding!" he chuckled. "Sit down you big lug." he pushed the redheaded boy back into the lounge. Hermione was frozen between laughing and glaring for a moment, before giving an in-between which eventually melted into soft laughter. Ron eventually joined too, though he made a point to shove Harry completely onto the floor first.

They knew it was alright then.

**6**

Harry smiled when Hermione came through the portrait finally, having demanded she felt uncomfortable in her clothes and couldn't stand it another moment unless she changed. Her clothes weren't so different, but the cuffs of the brown button-up sweater were now white fur, and she wasn't wearing shoes, only socks.

The Gryffindor tower wasn't far from the great hall, so the house of the lion often went to breakfast wearing just socks and occasionally even just pyjamas and night gowns. Most found it amusing to know what kind of boxers the boys wore or if the girls really did have typical goody-goody night dresses that puffed out like Sunday dresses drowned in starch with frills on the end.

But just because he and Ron had sat at the table of a morning with nothing but boxers and slippers on their bodies didn't mean Hermione would follow suit in such lacking of personal decency. In fact, the only time Harry could remember Hermione not wearing shoes at the table was when Draco had cast a spell that placed a puddle right in their path and she had been the only one too busy talking to notice it was there. Her shoes and socks, filled with water were simply kicked off and placed behind a pillar to retrieve again after dinner, as they were all too tired from their last classes to care about charming them dry.

She flushed with embarrassment as Ron let her set her cold, white feet on his lap while Harry had wrapped his cloak over them so no one would see her atrociously bright red and blue toenails which she was rather ashamed of. Pavarti and Lavander had prompted her into trying out painting her nails, but when she said she'd never done it before they told her to practise on her toenails; they never explained that you didn't need ten layers of nail polish and that you couldn't pretend to be colour blind when applying these ten layers. The result looked as though her toes had been shoved through a meat grinder, smothered with blue cheese and then someone had cast as dodgy of a healing spell as Gilderoy Lockheart.

Of course, her lack of shoes wasn't what bothered Harry today. He pulled out his wand and pointed it to his cheek, pausing in an attempt to remember the name of the glamour charm that would hide the bruise. She shoved his wand away while he was distracted, however.

"Hermione, what are you doing? You don't want to walk into the hall with a bruise the size of a bludger on your face do you?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded. Hermione, however, smiled softly and reassuringly gave Harry a tap on the shoulder.

"No, I'm not ashamed of it Harry. I was put in my place when I needed to be, there's no shame in that." she said, giving both of her boys a smile before moving ahead of them. Harry wordlessly flanked one of her sides while Ron the other. "So how's Draco?" she asked, looking over at him.

Harry remained quiet, remembering how he must have ignored the boy and then remembering the reason why. He never meant to act the way he had in the alcove; the last thing he had wanted to do was touch Draco like that before they'd even talked about anything. Harry already knew he was drawn to the Slytherin; he couldn't escape if he tried. But acting the way he had was almost shameful.

But he couldn't forget the sudden temperature drop that surrounded Draco when he said that he couldn't stop himself. He must have sounded like a total prat, but he was too bewildered about how the temperature pulsating from Draco's skin went from compellingly warm to ice cold. Once again, the boy had _felt _like death.

Perhaps, when Draco had died during the holidays, a part of him had stayed dead.

Hermione, realising that Harry wasn't going to answer her, dropped the subject like a hot rock. The three of them pushed into the great hall together, Hermione noticing that Draco refused to look up and acknowledge them as he did every evening.

She felt a strange sense of loss and hurt when he refused to look up and give her a curt nod and warm smile as he had done every day for almost two weeks. She realised how much they had been taking advantage of Draco's turn for the better. Seeing him acting the way he had for the last five years hurt in a way she couldn't imagine.

They sat down at the table, George and Fred teasing Hermione about her lack of shoes for a few minutes before Ron, with all his dignity and grace, thumped them on the head with a summoned potions text book. George then turned his teasing to his own twin, who tried to ignore his brother in vain. Everything was fine until a commotion was stirred over at the Slytherin table.

"Don't touch me!" Draco hissed, knocking his glass of pumpkin juice to the ground; the resulting shattering of glass was what had silenced the entire hall. Harry's eyes were instantly at Draco rather than having to scan the entire hall like most people did.

"What is wrong with you!" Pansy screeched, grabbing him by the collar and pressing their lips together forcibly. He pushed her away, standing with a leg either side of the seat.

"I told you not to touch me!" he demanded. She stood as well, slapping him across the face hard enough to knock him off balance. With a leg either side of the bench, he almost fell over. Amazingly, despite looking completely stupid, he managed to stay on his feet. Pansy hit very hard, their audience gathered.

"You are so fucking selfish!" Harry caught several professors trying to stand from the head table only to have Dumbledore motion for them to sit down, before casting a knowing wink over at Harry. Harry realised it was another one of those situations, much like his own and Hermione's that afternoon. "If you weren't so conceited you would know that Blaise and me aren't doing so well!" she went to slap him again but he caught her wrist and yanked it across her body, turning her threatening posture away from him.

"Listen here, Parkinson. I don't care what you or Blaise do as long as it has nothing to do with me. So go run along and open your legs for someone who wont throw up at the sight." he hissed, so only a few select people in the hall heard it. She tore away from him, stepping over the seat and cornering him back onto the table, fists reaching his blazer and shaking him hard.

"You arrogant, pig headed, conceited, loathsome, evil fucking ferret! You are so foul you make me sick!"

"If I make you sick then why are you constantly crawling all over me like the little leach you are!" she slapped him again, though considerably lighter that time. Hermione noticed that her hand was red raw, if not slightly swollen from hitting him.

"I hate you! You're killing him, you're killing me!" she screamed, shoving him hard. He slid back onto the table, knocking clinking plates and glasses into one another.

"Go on then. Hit me. Hit me and make yourself feel better." he growled, and she stepped back in fright at the sound of his voice. It had changed, it was deeper and his eyes darker. His eyes grew lighter again, though his expression of disgust didn't leave his face. She felt a sneer twist on her face and she held her palm out ready to hit him again.

Surprising everyone in the hall, when he caught her wrist this time he moved foreword at the same moment, pushing her back against the wall and crushing his lips to hers. She fought for a moment before settling and running her hands through his hair and closing her eyes.

Draco's eyes were wide open, and his hands grabbed her wrists and moved them from his hair, pinning them to the wall. Some of the people in the hall went back to their food, but most continued watching. Something wasn't right, they knew it. Harry knew it.

Pansy knew it.

She felt that he wasn't kissing back, and when she tried to move away to breathe she found she couldn't. When she tried to breathe through her nose, she realised he was crushing it with his own to stop her. He was trying to kill her!

The brutality of the kiss started sinking in when she felt her own blood running down her chin from where his teeth had cut her lip, and her eyes opened in shock to find they were still completely open, staring deep into her.

She trashed her body, realising that trying to move her hands from his grip would be like trying to pull them from dried cement. Finally, when she started to see black and white dots in her vision and the colour faded into darkness at the edges, she reflexively brought her knee up between them aiming to catch him between the legs. He caught the movement and slid back enough so that he would cop it in the stomach where it would be less painful. He fell away from her, wiping the blood from his mouth and watching as she fell to the floor, coughing and spitting blood at his shoes as she struggled to gain her breath and glare ferociously at him.

"What's the matter? I thought it was what you wanted." he seethed through his clenched teeth, staring at her as he continued to try unsuccessfully to wipe the blood from his skin. She trembled, angry tears brimming in her eyes.

"I hate you…" she breathed, looking away from him in spite. Draco felt an arm on his elbow, turning and almost jumping in shock when he seen the headmaster standing and regarding him with an unreadable stare. He realised where he was. The entire school had seen a side of him he didn't want them to see.

He met Harry's eyes then, the boy staring first at the blood on his face before meeting his eyes. For some reason, the raven's eyes lidded and he smiled in what one could consider to be a proud way. Draco felt an unusual feeling surge through his veins, like he'd proved himself for something he had no knowledge of but had wanted to succeed anyway.

"Mister Malfoy, you and Harry should accompany me immediately. And would someone escort Miss Parkinson to the infirmary?" he said quietly, and once again his voice was as unreadable as his expression. The headmaster nodded over to Harry who returned the gesture before Draco felt himself being led out of the hall.

He heard Severus's voice in his head, telling him that he'd just screwed things more than ever. He couldn't help but believe that thought.

**7**

Harry sat down beside me on the double-seater chair that had been moved before Dumbledore's desk specifically for us; it hadn't been here earlier today. Dumbledore looked down at his scroll, setting his quill aside. While his eyes were off us Harry and I turned to one another, and I felt a warmth run through me when I was met with a warm smile.

The raven threaded his fingers with mine unexpectedly, giving my hand a hard but not painful squeeze. I smiled contently to myself. I guessed that when Dumbledore looked up when we weren't paying attention we must have looked as though we were both sharing the same madness.

The lower part of my face was smeared with dried blood, and although it wasn't much it was painstakingly noticeable. Dots of blood marked the white collar of my shirt, and a bit was sticking a clump of my hair together. We both shared identical smiles meant only for one another, and in this situation I doubted it was a good thing for the aged headmaster to see.

"I will ignore the incident in the great hall for now, Draco, for I did after all allow it to go on as long as it did. Just because I said some lessons were brutal does not mean you had an invitation to do what you did tonight." he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a tired manner.

"I highly doubt that Pansy beating into him like she did was a method of restraining him, sir." Harry defended haughtily, and I found I rather liked the feeling I received when the words left the raven's lips in such a manner.

"I will admit he was provoked, and due to his current…situation…I will agree that it was not wise. Draco is obviously not in his rightest state of mind at this moment. And if this is any indication of previous events, per say, I will have no choice but to consider the safety of the other students here." Harry frowned.

"You aren't suggesting that Draco had attacked Ginny, are you sir?" the professor sighed, not meeting either of our eyes.

"It is but one among many things on my mind to be considered, Harry." it was as though I wasn't even there, and I gave Harry's hand a hard squeeze when he opened his mouth to speak, indicating that I wanted him to remain quiet and just let this questioning be over with.

The man regarded the both of us silently, and I could see a certain weather-worn look to his usually friendly features. He usually looked like the kind of grandfather you picture in children's books your parents read to you when you are but a child too small to read for yourself. My own grandfathers were all either Veela or Vampires, and even a Siren, but all of them had sturdy features and frowns set to their barely-there age lines. They leered at me disapprovingly from the many portraits decorating the Manor walls, and I often shivered under their gaze. I had wished that I had one, at least one, grandfather that resembled the kind of man Dumbledore was. But right now, Dumbledore resembled them instead.

"Now I am guessing you will want one another here for support, considering some of the questions I have for you both are quite personal. You do not have to answer them, but it would me mostly appreciated if you did." We both nodded. "Alright, Draco I will start with you."

Somehow, I knew he was going to say that. I shifted awkwardly under his and Harry's gaze.

"What is your full name." he asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Draconius Thomas Horus Malfoy" I replied. I could almost hear Ron scoffing back a laugh as he did in first year when he had heard my first name. I wonder if he heard my full name whether the reaction would be the same or if he'd just give in and fall to the ground in laughter.

"Are both of your parents alive?" I could see what he was doing. He would ask me small questions, jumping from personal to impersonal for a while until I warmed up. I decided to play along.

"Hopefully not." I answered, more interested in a small pale birthmark on my wrist than looking at him. The headmaster let the answer slide as 'they were the last time I saw them' and continued.

"Do you have any pets?" he asked. I considered whether I should answer truthfully or not, before realising that I couldn't really get in trouble.

"Two snakes, a tarantula and a cat."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I glanced to the side, at Harry, and then to Dumbledore. I cocked my head to the side, a scornful smile coming to my lips. No one knew the answer to that question.

"I have a disowned sister, a half sister and a three year old adopted brother who is really my cousin. My twin brother died." Harry's hand grasped my hand so tightly I thought my own knuckles would have gone white from the strain.

"Do you have any nicknames people around you call you?" he asked. I couldn't help but frown; what was with his questions?

"Well I'm called a slimy git, ferret, snake, evil bloody prat, and what was that really colourful one Hermione called me in third year?" I asked, turning to Harry in thought. "Foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach I believe she dubbed me." I slouched back in my chair. I perked my head up again at the thought. "Oh, and Blaise called me 'freak' the other day."

"I meant friendly nicknames…" the headmaster said quietly, knowing my answer was mostly out of spite for bringing up my parents and my siblings.

"Well, some people call me Noir and my cousins call me Stinger. Except for Lilly, she insists on calling me Mr Fluffy for whatever reason." I admitted, cheeks reddening when I realised who I had said this in front of. "I think I prefer Noir."

"Can you speak parseltongue?"

"I know only one sentence. _Hesava meissaha ve haorusie neva vis va_. That is all I know." I admitted. Harry turned his eyes toward me and then to the professor who appeared confused.

"It means '_do not attack, I promise not to harm_', though it is rather informal, I doubt any really old snakes would understand it entirely." I nodded, as it was the only sentence my mother had ever taught me to say if a snake tries to bite. It was surprisingly effective, and when I found out Harry was a parselmouth I felt overcome with the jealousy that he knew more than I did. I had previously thought my talent to dissuade a snake attacking was spectacular and unique, but I never guessed that Harry, my rival, would be the one to upstage me on that.

"How many protective spells are on the front gate at Malfoy Mannor." I frowned harder than before; the headmaster was treading glass and he knew it. But still, I decided to answer.

"There were seventeen, but father implored me to make some more when I was bored over the summer. Now there are twenty eight."

The professor's brow furrowed in concentration, and I knew he was storing that information for later. This time, he leant foreword over the desk and pushed his glasses up his nose further. I felt myself tightening my hold on Harry's hand, knowing that I was nervous.

"This question is probably very personal, are you sure you want to continue?" he asked. I didn't say anything, knowing he would twist my answer and make it positive somehow. "Explain to me what exactly your relationship with Tom Riddle has been over your entire life."

Suddenly, it felt as though someone had shoved their wand down my throat, because I couldn't breathe. The air around me was cold, and the windows hidden deep in the walls were crackling with frost.

"I need you to be honest, Draco. What were you to Tom Riddle."

I choked on my own gasp as I tried to hold back the emotions roaring through me.

"…no-thing. I was nothing."

* * *

**A/N: **Whew, longest chapter yet. I am so sorry for all you who are having trouble keeping up with the _characters_…or the **plot**…or the**_ length_**…

If you aren't sure about the future content of this story, please go back to the a/n at the end of the first chapter, where it explains everything. (is too lazy to copy and paste it again)

I have more maths tests coming up so I may not be updating this story quite so often this week. I will be working on it though, it's going along rather well I think, if only people would review then I'd know but I can only ask for so much.

Anyway, I've been sitting on my ass in my room all weekend because of the heat (take this, it's freezing cold most of summer and now that its autumn its getting very very hot. And in winter, all it will do is rain and be cold, and the same during spring only we know what the sun looks like too. My butt is so numb and my sister hasn't stopped staring at me from the end of her bed for nearly two hours now - its really starting to creep me out (especially when she does it in the dark because she cant sleep)

**Take care,**  
**~MK**


	6. Clipping The Raven's Wings

**=The Hangman=  
Myurra-K**

There wasn't much of anything to do here all alone. The Burrow creaked all around me in the absence of those who had previously occupied it. It used to be a nice, warm place. I remember the short week I had spent here with the whole Weasley family, Granger and Harry.

I missed them already, but I was struggling with the knowledge that trapped within these walls her spirit wailed and clawed. Out of all those who had died so far, she was the only one who hung on.

And she wasn't letting go.

The cats could sense her, and my specter shivered whenever she was near. I could still feel her fingers around my throat as she threw herself at me, trying to steal my body. She was starved of life, and she wanted mine.

Crookshanks purred, nuzzling his head under my hand and licking my fingers. I smiled down at Hermione's cat - for the most of it he was my only company. Hedwig occasionally came and visited me when Harry lost track of her, and my last snake Gytsy was constantly curled around my neck when she was awake.

The Weasley's had a cat, but I never seen him. He was always out in the forest hunting; he didn't like the girl's spirit that slithered through the crawlspace and scaled the walls.

Crookshanks sneezed suddenly, his whiskers brushing my wrist as he shot off my lap and ran straight for the window. I felt my breath freeze in my throat, though not by my own will. My skin felt cold; something pressing on it like fingers, spidering over my skin and clenching like fangs.

If only her spirit was still attached to a body.

"A little early for this, isn't it gingersnap?" I asked, feeling the pressure increase only a slight amount more. The specter shivered, and I felt it receding into the couch, trying to sink away unless I needed it.

I took a deep breath, and dove away from her. She was already on me when I turned, the force crashing me into the couch on my back. I could hardly move; a predicament that I had never faced before. Suddenly, a form shimmered above me, one I recognised and was more than grateful to see.

"Don't tell me you forgot me already, Draco."

* * *

**The Hangman  
****-Chapter Six-  
Clipping the Raven's Wings**

**1**

Suddenly, it felt as though someone had shoved their wand down my throat, because I couldn't breathe. The air around me was cold, and the windows hidden deep in the walls were crackling with frost.

"I need you to be honest, Draco. What were you to Tom Riddle."

I choked on my own gasp as I tried to hold back the emotions roaring through me.

"…no-thing. I was nothing."

"You're lying, Draco." the headmaster offered to the silence that filled the space between us. I tightened my hand around Harry's before glaring as harshly at the professor as possible.

"You aren't going to leave it alone, are you." I snapped. The headmaster simply watched my reaction with interest. "Fine, you want to know, then I'll tell you. I was _nothing_. He was everything to me and I was nothing. I grew up with him visiting me in the form of a memory, the same form Harry would have seen in second year. Tom had more than one diary; the one I had actually had writing in it. He used to visit me between the ages of five and eight before he disappeared. And then my brother died when I was ten and he took from me the only thing I knew I could give. I fell in love with him; he was a vile, disgusting creature but not as a memory." I trailed off, falling quiet.

"Does Voldemort know of this development." Dumbledore asked quietly. I shook my head.

"It was his memory that I fell in love with, not him." I said below my breath. The old professor nodded, leaning back in his chair and staring at me in thought.

"Draco, you are dismissed. Please go back to your dorms and stay there for tonight. I will speak to you and Harry again some other time." I dropped Harry's hand, standing before he could tell me to wait and running out of the office.

How could I have been so stupid as to tell him that? Now they're all going to come up with some miraculous plan to bring the memory of Tom and Voldemort together and use me against him. That would probably work, I will admit that much. But I don't want it to work.

I want nothing to do with their war.

**2**

I passed Blaise in the common room, who barely glanced up at me before he continued to stare into the fire. I didn't care; I couldn't care. I slammed my way into the bedroom and locked it behind me, only to come face to face with Pansy who was sitting on my bed.

"Do you love me, Draco?" she asked. I frowned at her, and told her to get out. "No, answer me! Do you love me? Or are my affections completely wasted. Am I completely wasted."

"Yes you are, now get out."

"Don't just say things out of anger, Draco! I love you, I hate you so fucking much but I love you too! Why are you so horrible to me when all I want is for you to return my love?" she cried, tears leaking out of her steely eyes. I ground my teeth, refusing to say anything.

I shoved her aside, off the end of my bed and toward the door. "Get out."

"Fine, I will. But tell me. Look me in the eye and tell me honestly. Make me believe it." she pleaded, grabbing my upper arms. I looked down at her, sighing and shrugging her hands off my shoulders. Placing my palms either side of her face, I turned her head so that she was gazing directly at me.

"Pansy dear," I started, watching her eyes light up with hope. Something inside me told me that it was a wrong way to start off the sentence. "I couldn't care if they found you dead in a ditch tomorrow evening."

Her tears resumed their trek down her face, but her eyes seemed to die. Surprisingly, I felt not the slightest amount of guilt for my words. Her face appeared to age several years, her hair no longer shone blindingly in the light and she reminded me startlingly of Blaise.

"I believe you now."

She slid away from me, grabbing her scarf off the end of the bed and wrapping it around her neck loosely. She was out of the room before I could say another word.

As soon as the door clicked shut I fell, down into a deep sleep.

**3**

I'm dreaming, but I'm not waking up.

I see myself walking down the corridor, my shadow stretched longer behind me than it should have been, the arms of the detail-less dark shape beating away at the twin shape the raven circling my head was creating.

The raven moves away from my head, stopping before me to change into it's original form. Pansy I believe her name was, pale faced and steely eyed stood with her arms folded under her breasts, hip cocked to the side in a way that said she was going to stand comfortably no matter how it looked. Her hair, dark as night, was cut straight so her fringe brushed her eyelids and her side bangs curled under her chin.

I could see from the corner of my eye that my shadow was moving beside me now, before swinging in front of me. The morning sun had moved from horizon to horizon, now in the midst of setting with the fall of evening, changing sides so that she was no longer surrounded by the white glow of sunrise, but now I by the yellow one of sunset. She held out her hand to me, as if to say that I should follow her.

For a moment, I almost took it. But her eyes, a dull blue, were not the ones I was searching for. My shadow, cast in front of me completely now, was reaching out to claw at her, but not quite reaching her. It beckoned me to take a step closer, but then it changed it's mind and told me to take a step back.

I did so, and then turned to walk away. Behind me, a pair of warm passionate green eyes locked with my own, and a nod of familiarity followed. He was cast within a golden halo of light from the setting sun, and the caws of the raven behind me started again. I seen Harry flinch, and he beckoned to me, scared.

Behind me, my shadow had caught the shadow of the raven finally and wasn't relenting, strangling it while shaking it harshly. I winced, trying to tell it to stop.

"You have the power to destroy." Harry suddenly told me, and held his hand out to me more confidently. On the ground, his shadow did exactly as he did, rather than moving with it's own life and own state of mind. I told myself that shadows can't do what they want, and that Pansy the raven wasn't really dying. Her agonized, strained and breathless caws for my attention were waning, and reluctantly I held out shaking hand to the person in the opposite direction.

The trembling subsided when our touches met, his large warm hand encircling my own. I felt him tug me close to him, his other hand resting on the small of my back. It was warm also, and I felt my shadow behind me vice it's grip around the raven even harder, though I was still telling myself it wasn't happening. His chin was on my shoulder, and I could tell he was staring at the raven struggling in mid-air and dying rather than watching what was really happening portrayed by the evening sunlight behind me.

It was as though he was saying in his own way that he didn't blame me.

"Don't abuse destruction, Draco." he whispered against my neck, his lips moist and comforting as he pressed them to my nape. I tensed with horror when I heard the last deathly cry of the raven and then the sickening crunch of her neck, Harry's hand in my hair stroking it to soothe me while he was whispering that it would be alright, not allowing me to turn around.

Now, I'm screaming, but still I'm not waking up.

**4**

I shot from the bed, gasping and staring around the room with wide terrified eyes. The room was just a blur of charcoal shapes and strips of false moonlight. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loudly from their beds across the dorm, and as everything came into focus I could see that Blaise wasn't present in the room.

I wiped the sweat that had beaded across my brow with the back of my hand, only to realise that my hand was trembling worse than I had thought it would. Taking a shaky breath, I slid my legs from beneath the sheets, recoiling at the temperature for a brief moment before touching my toes to the ground.

"What the fuck" I gasped, my breath visible before my eyes. Tearing the coverlet from the top of my bed, I wrapped it around my shoulders and stormed out of the room, not caring about the way the door slammed as I knew it wouldn't wake up the other two in the dorm anyway as my screaming hadn't.

I passed through the common room, not at all liking how cold it was, only to see Blaise was sitting on the couch still staring into the fire. I swallowed thickly, ignoring the part in my gut that was sinking, telling me that Blaise wasn't the kind of company I needed.

Eventually, my starving need for some sort of human companionship I sunk into the couch beside him, leaving enough space for another person to sit between us. He didn't even seem surprised when I sat down, opening his mouth and speaking quietly.

"Heard you screaming." he said. I swallowed thickly again, trying to hide my embarrassment by running a hand through my hair only to realise that my hand was still trembling. Giving up, I wrapped the coverlet around myself tighter and sunk into the seat.

"Yeah. Crabbe and Goyle didn't though." I said nonchalantly. He didn't reply to that.

"Pansy hasn't come back yet." he said instead, dark lips moving still after he had finished the sentence but no words came out. I frowned at his words.

"What? Where did she go?"

"Don't know. She left after you came back and hasn't shown up since." I glanced at the clock suspended above the fireplace to see it was two in the morning; I'd been back for hours.

"Wherever she is, she had a good reason." I said, crossing my arms to pull the blanket around myself tighter before curling up on the end of the lounge, falling asleep to the quiet passing of breath through my lips.

**5**

I wasn't worried about where she was, but I was curios. It was five in the morning, and there were hours before breakfast. I figured that, since I wasn't comfortable just sitting around the dorms or the common room while people are either sleeping or sitting in a zombie-like state just metres from me, that I would just take a book down to the hall and read there.

I wasn't the only one with that idea apparently.

Upon opening the doors, I spotted Hermione seated at the Gryffindor table with a nose buried in a book. The air in the great hall was colder than I thought it would be, and she was barely in anything other than a set of simple pyjamas; striped black and white pants and a grey singlet.

Shrugging the green coverlet from my shoulders, which I was surprisingly still covering my shoulders with, I approached her quietly. Sliding the blanket over her back, I smiled warmly at her before sitting beside her.

She startled at first, but returned my smile gratefully, tucking the blanket over her shoulders and flipping the page in the book.

"Mornin' Hermione." I said with a yawn; I had only woken up about ten minutes ago.

"Hey." she said. I glanced around the hall, seeing that Professor Hooch was seated at the main table with her feet up on it, a hot cup of something in one hand and a book in the other. Two other students were in the hall; one over at Ravenclaw and another at my own house table.

Seems I wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep.

"So what are you doing up this early?" she asked, grinning up at me. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Well, I already slept a fair amount. Besides, why prolong something which your body decides it's had enough of?" she chuckled.

"Well, I'll take that as you cant sleep anymore then." taking out her wand she flicked her wrist expertly and two cups of hot cocoa appeared on the table. Glancing around, I seen the same had happened for the other two students, who smiled at Hermione thankfully.

"So, you come here often, I assume?" I asked. She nodded, closing the book but keeping her forefinger between the pages. She turned to me, and I seen the dark bruise on her cheekbone for the first time. He flinched unknowingly, and she touched her cheek with cautious fingertips.

"Oh yeah, that. I guess Harry told you?" I nodded, but I couldn't help but stare. "I deserved it; I'm glad he did it." she said, shaking her head at herself, long ringlets of ash-brown hair falling over her shoulders.

"Hmm, well Harry does tell me a lot of things. But I guess I tell him a lot as well."

"Hn." she clucked her tongue, picking up her mug of cocoa and sipping it.

"So, um…Hermione?" she made an affirmative noise over her drink, her eyes turning to him over the rim of the mug. "I just wanted to ask; how did you do it?"

"What so now?"

"I mean, how did you know how to deal with my seizures?" she looked down into the mug, and for a moment her expression reminded me of Professor Trelawney when she looked into our teacups during divination in third year.

I watched her as her eyes welled with tears for a brief moment before they seemed to evaporate; she looked up at me and smiled sadly.

"I had a brother, did you know?" she asked. I gave her a look that told her to continue. "He was a year and a half older than me, but all throughout my childhood I was looking after him. When he was close to turning fourteen, I would have been about twelve at the time, he died and it was my fault. He was an epileptic, but for some reason the medications weren't working for him as well as they should have been. One of us was always supposed to be in the room when he was bathing, and we couldn't leave him on his own for the most of it." she started to cry then.

"What happened?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"I was studying a book Ron had sent me over the Christmas break. I heard him having a seizure in his room down the hall but I thought that if I pretended I was asleep it wouldn't matter. I kept reading, and even when I heard him leave the room and head for the stairs I continued to ignore it. He had another seizure half way down the stairs and cracked his head open. I felt so guilty; my mother even asked me where I had been when this had happened. It took a few months but I eventually got over it. The summer holidays, I was supposed to be in the bathroom while he was showering. I left the room to get a drink and I got caught up with Crookshanks when he had a seizure in the shower."

I let out a breath, as I had been holding in to refrain from cutting in. She looked so broken; this whole incident must have really traumatised her. She took a steadying breath and continued.

"He went through the shower glass and broke his neck on the metal basin. He died and it was my fault; I hadn't even learnt my lesson the first time. It was like a warning and I didn't listen. He died because I was ignorant and I didn't want to do that again." she said sadly.

I covered her hand with my own, using my other to lift the hem of my coverlet from her shoulder and dab at the wetness on her cheeks. She smiled gratefully at me, taking my hands tightly and bringing them to her forehead.

"Thankyou for listening. I haven't told anyone." I frowned.

"Anyone at all?" I asked.

"I think Fred and George know somehow, but other than that no I haven't." I looked down at the book she was reading. It said 'The Wicked Witch Vol.3' and I laughed, her attention going to the cover of the book. She blushed pulling it away from my sight despite knowing I had already seen it.

"Well, that's not the kind of material I thought I'd ever see you reading." I grinned. 'The Wicked Witch' was a series collection of smutty romance stories written by witches across the world; it was rather popular with the magical world. My own mother had the full seven volumes in our library, and I have to admit I'd even read a few though they weren't exactly to my fancy.

She spluttered in her embarrassment and after successfully hiding it from my sight and the sight of all the other people occupying the great hall at this ungodly hour, she did her best to calm her flush. She turned to me again, though she wouldn't meet me in the eye.

"I like them. Though I admit that they are somewhat romance-spoiling. They just give young women like myself ideals about love only for us to be disappointed."

"Ron not cutting it for you?" I joked, laughing when she turned a steady shade of scarlet yet again. "Never mind Granger, I've read a couple; my mother has the whole published collection. They weren't exactly up to my standards though, but I do wonder sometimes what it would have been like if I actually was attracted to someone of the opposite gender rather than my own."

"Hmm. Oh, while we aren't too far from the topic, how are you going with the seizures?" she asked. I knew it was both because she was curios and because she wanted to escape the topic of conversation we were steadily making our way into.

"Pomfrey gave me a potion to calm the electromagnetic bursts that cause them, but I haven't had one for quite a few days now. The last one I had in my sleep, but Blaise wont say anything and Crabbe and Goyle are like concrete when they fall asleep." I said. She nodded, clearing her throat and placing the book back on the table.

She ignored my grin and opened it back to the page she had been reading when I came. I could tell the conversation was over for now, and folded my arms on the table, resting my head in them and seeing if I could score a few more minutes of sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, a short chapter but a chapter nonetheless. I'm shortening them until I get some more reviews because I have absolutely no idea how many people actually are reading this story. *grins* that and I'm obsessed with the Covenant movie. Toby Hemmingway and Chace Crawford are right up there with Tom Felton now *swoons*

The situation with Hermione and her brother is loosely based off my own situation with my sister. Though my sister was never seriously injured in this case and the incidents happened in the opposite order.

**Take care,**  
**~MK**


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